Deadpool Chaos
by Tsubasa504
Summary: Deadpool's meeting with the Black Widow could certainly have gone better, but hey, he gets to meet the Avengers and how cool isn't that. Rated M due to Deadpool being Deadpool. Swearing and sexual innuendos.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, lately I've been going on a Marvel spree. I feel rather stupid, but until I watched Infinity Wars I hadn't quite understood that everything was connected. All the Thor movies, Iron Man, latest Spider-Man and even the Guardians of the Galaxy. Because of this revelation I am now re-watching all of the latest movies starting from Iron Man I. I've also just finished watching Deadpool I and II, and they were awesome; I really want Deadpool to meet the Avengers. So, here is a fic where that happens.**

 **Deadpool knows about SHIELD, but doesn't know who the operatives in it are. He also knows about the Avengers, but because he's a lazy fuck, he doesn't really keep up with who's who. The Avengers on the other hand have no clue as to who Deadpool actually is. This is the first time they get the honor of meeting him. Craziness ensues.**

 **Rated M because of Deadpool.**

—V—V—

 **Deadpool Chaos**

Deadpool had never seen anything more fucking beautiful. The sky above him was a painting of art. Those light and dark greyish colors, and that depth, man, he could get lost in it. Like the deep sky was calling to him. Calling him up.

"Is this heaven?" he wondered. Even his own voice sounded floaty and, dare he say it, angelic. "I didn't think this moment would ever come."

He laid there a while longer, just letting his body unravel, unwind and get ready for the journey up. For here he comes. With the last of his strength he spread his weak arms, lifting them towards the sky. His mask crinkled as he smiled, admiring the bright light that was growing stronger and stronger before him. "God, I never thought I would get to say this, but beam me up, Scotty!"

"Seriously, do you ever listen to yourself talk?" a female voice disrupted his ongoing process of entering the most holy of kingdoms. Her voice was low and judging, and it was already pulling him fast downwards, away from heaven.

"No, I was so close. Let me go back," he yelled. His eyes trained on the still light and clear sky above him. But the female voice was relentless, talking into this ear and pulling him down. He knew it. Of everything that Satan could have been, he just had to be a female. This was totally unfair. She better not be hot.

"You're mumbling nonsense to yourself. If you're alive, why don't you just be quiet and stay still. I shot you in the head. Gonna need to pull that bullet out."

Deadpool's eyes finally blinked back open into reality. "Bullet," he said. "You shot me?" That just felt insulting. People can't just go around and shot at other people. What if he had died?

"That's what I said. Though, I think it's in too deep. We're gonna have to get you to a doctor."

"Ah, classic that's what she said joke."

"I'm really starting to wish the bullet had killed you."

With the clearing of his vision he came to the realization that his beautiful and artful sky was indeed a cement cracked ceiling. And the strong light that he had thought were the angels ready to pull him up, was indeed a light-bulb that looked one step away from exploding due to too high voltage.

But, man, was Satan beautiful. The angel's chorus could be heard all around as he stared upon her. Never mind the sky. Her beauty could take him to heaven. "You must be the angel here to pick me up. I'm sorry, I mistook you for Satan, but now that i got a closer look at you-"

"I'll put another bullet in you," she said, red eyebrow quirking up and lush lips pressing down into a scowl.

"I can appreciate a strong women."

She just rolled her eyes and pulled him up into a sitting position. Her soft, yet surprisingly strong hands cupped his cheeks. "I usually don't kiss on a first date, but I'll make an exception for you."

Her hands tightened and those gorgeous eyes narrowed in… lust? No, that was definitely anger. "Just turn your head, so I can look at the bullet hole."

Deadpool happily obliged her. This lovely angel had one sanguine glare.

"The bullet's pretty deep in there, you should be dead," she said.

"Should, but am not. Name's Deadpool," he answered, staring fascinated at the red hair that was right in his face. Without thinking he reached out and ran his hand through some strands of it. Not that he got too far, a sharp pain later and his hand was pinned to the floor by a large knife. "Hey! Where you pull that from?"

"No touching. Or the next thing the knife goes through will be something far more intimate."

He raised his hands in surrender, the left still very much skewered by the knife. "No touching, got it. Scout's honor."

"I highly doubt you ever went to the scouts," she said, leaning back on her haunches and light eyes still pinned to where the bullet hole most likely was. "Most people die from this. You don't seem surprised, I take it you're used to this kind of thing happening."

"Absolutely. Got to give the people who like torturing something harder to work with. Can't have torturees dying off too quickly."

The redhead looked pained and shook her head. "Right. Well, back-up's here, so let's get you on your way to a doctor. I know a great one."

"I wish I could hear you, but the angelic chorus is just so loud. It must be your beauty singing," Deadpool said, dazed eyes fast on her form.

"Guess the bullet is stuck in your auditory cortex."

What a lovely song this is, Deadpool though. It was literally music to his ears. His already partially healed hand went up to wave before him as he swayed on the spot to the song.

"What's your name?" he wondered in a singsong voice, finally stilling some to bring his attention back on her; she was busy murmuring into a small microphone in her ear. He could clearly see that. He was deaf due to angelic music not blind.

"Thought you couldn't hear me?"

"Changed my mind."

"You can call me Widow," she answered, going back to clip out some harsh orders before lowering her hand from her ear.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry." Now, he felt like shit. That had been terrible of him to ask. He should have known better.

The widow just looked confused.

"Losing a loved one is hard. I know. Personal experience there. Not a good one."

"It's short for Black Widow. Talking to you feels like I'm dealing with a child."

"Oh, no. You don't want to deal with me as a child. I'm a horrible child. You think I'm bad now, but I had a lot of daddy issues. Some mommy issues, too. But mostly daddy ones. Not a good time in my growth development. I craved attention in the bad kind of way," he said, nodding along to his memory.

"I can't imagine why." The sarcasm in her voice was thick. Deadpool was sure he would not have been able to miss it even if he had been a mile away.

"Hey, that him?" A shout came up from the badly lit up doorway in the horribly cracked concrete room they were in.

"Yeah, his vitals good, but he's got a bullet in his head. I also stabbed him with a knife; the wounds already healed," she replied back, eyes scanning Deadpool in a not too unpleasant kind of way. He could have preened like a cat.

"Damn, you don't go easy on us men, do you, Widow?" a wide shouldered man said as he made his way into the room. A long black bow slung over his shoulder and with what looked like an arrow holster on his hips.

Deadpool was fascinated. Bow and arrow? Seriously, now he felt like he needed to change his fighting style. Guns and swords were clearly outdated. New weaponry would be his new main focus.

"Robin Hood, never thought I would meet you. You're different from what I had expected. You know, less hoody," he said, letting his eyes trail over the man, "and very much like a merc. Just so we're all on the same page here, I don't do good with assassins. I'm not a team player, or I am, their not."

The man's eye roll was even more impressive than the angelic widow's. "Wow, he's like Tony. Just as red and just as annoying. They'll get along fine."

"I feel like you should add, like a house on fire, after that." Deadpool decided to add his two cents to whatever conversation they were clearly trying to have.

The man turned to the women, and wow, did Deadpool feel ignored. "The quinjet is on the roof, if you're ready to go?"

"I'm ready," he said, jumping to his feet; bringing a hand up to bang against his left ear as if trying to shake water out. The buzzy feeling was starting to get annoying. "Where to and what's a queen's jet?"

The walk to the ultra cool looking plane was done in blissful silence. At least in Deadpool's head it was silent because all the things that usually would be tumbling around in there and creating one heck of a ruckus was being spilled out his lips. A bullet in the head couldn't have happened at a more opportune moment. He could barely hear anything, and his brain didn't need to think. Truly a momentous occasion.

The occasional "shut up" that floated passed the loud buzzing was easily ignored by talking louder. So far, he felt that he was really getting along with these two people. Nothing sad "I love you" more than a hand constantly on your weapon ready to guard you if an attack was forthcoming.

A lovely friendship was certainly budding here.

"Did you try knocking him out?" the man who calls himself Hawkeye leaned over to whisper into Widow's ear.

"I shot him in the head. You think I haven't tried knocking him out as well?"

Hawkeye backed up some, hands raising in apology.

"I'm just saying, we might have liked him more if he was unconscious… or mute," Hawkeye said, glancing over at the red dressed man, who gave a small happy wave in return and then started forming a heart sign with his hands. "Definitely unconscious would be best."

Widow followed his eyes as well and sighed. "You think that craziness is from the bullet or was he a lost cause to begin with?"

"I'd love to say it's the bullet, but considering he doesn't seem all that bothered about his predicament, I'd go so far as to say that's just his horrible personality."

"Hey, Widow, I must say you look amazing in those spandex. Almost better than me and that is saying something. I look gorgeous," Deadpool called over their talking as he admired the female assassin.

"You think very highly of yourself," she answered.

"Think? Please, I know. With a body like mine it would be a shame to hide it."

"Yeah, a real shame," Robin Hood said.

Deadpool ignored the sarcasm in the voice and chastised him, "Hey, hey, no looking without paying. Don't be cheap on me."

For Hawkeye and Widow it was a relief to see the quinjet come into view. Deadpool on the other hand stopped and admired it with loud and very obnoxious sentences; traveling more sideways than actually towards the ramp going up into it. Hawkeye finally had enough of the man's nonsense and grabbed ahold of him to physically push him onboard. They strapped him in-with a minimum of comments from the red dressed up man-and took off heading for the newly named Avenger's Tower.

—V—V—

Deadpool was on his absolute best behavior. They were currently on a military jet-how cool wasn't that-heading east at impossible speeds, and the lovely Widow, well, she was staring at him with far too much intensity. "Anymore staring, hun, and I'll blush."

She ignored the comment. "What's with the outfit?"

Deadpool plucked on his tight suit, fingering some tears that had appeared during his last tussle. "So my enemies can't see me bleed," he said, grin wide in place.

"And the face mask? Let me guess, to hide your identity," Black Widow said.

This just amused Deadpool. People always thought he had something to hide, but really the mask wasn't something that important. "It's so my enemies don't run away screaming. Can't have the party end too early. I'd have to go chase them down separately in that case, and I just hate extra work."

Her face scrunched up adorably, and Deadpool was close to doing a small cooing sound but in the end thought better of it. She was still palming the knife in a rather telling matter. And though Deadpool loved some spicy foreplay, with the bullet in his head and the rather rude handcuffs they had put him in he decided not to push it too far. _Too_ definitely being a key-word in there.

"What you just have an ugly mug or something?" Robin Hood yelled from the front of the plane.

"Something like that," Deadpool said, contemplating whether to lift the face-mask or not. He decided against it, rather not scare the ladies.

Deadpool turned to look out the small window to his right but saw nothing but clouds. "So, doctor?"

The lady nodded.

"Then I'm free to go?" he wondered. Things usually weren't that easy, but these people hadn't actually done him any harm. He'd accidentally dropped down before the lovely redhead and gotten an asswhoping of a lifetime. He'd enjoyed that. The angelic choir had been nice also.

"We have some questions for you."

"Don't we all," he said happily. "Well, ask away." He twirled his finger in her direction in a _go on_ _with it_ kind of gesture.

She just leaned back and continued with her intense staring. "I want the bullet out of your head before we begin… questioning you."

"Oh." Deadpool liked the thought of that. "If you wanted your hands on me, you could've just asked."

"I'll be the one putting my hands on you," came floating down from the cockpit. The anger in the voice was clear, and very amusing for Deadpool.

"Ladies, please. There is no need to fight over me. I do sharing quite well. The only question is, do you want me on the top, bottom... or do you want me in the middle? Or we can do all of that and spice it up with some more bondage," he said, tugging on his cuffs. "We're gonna need something stronger. I can't promise I'll be good when you reel me up like that."

The Widow was out of her seat in a moment and pressed up close, fragrant perfume or whatever that pleasant smell was, wafting up his nose. "Either shut up or I'll do it myself," she said, voice low and sharp knife pressed tight into his spandex clad throat.

"Wow, chillax. You're hot as fuck, but come on, adding extra holes, that's not cool."

"Nat, back it off. Fury wants him in one piece," Robin Hood called from his little cockpit. Must be nice, Deadpool thought. A pit filled with cock. And… he was drooling again.

Bad, Deadpool, he scolded himself.

The vengeful hot lady backed off, which reminded Deadpool of another problem.

"Oh, if you want the bullet out. Just so you know, you're gonna heave to drill a new hole. I'm all healed up." He finished his sentence by patting the side of his head in show. The Widow looked slightly bothered by this, but gave no comment. She did, however, finger the knife strapped to her leg, a calculating and questioning look in her eyes. Deadpool had a feeling she was contemplating how to best kill him. "I guess it's not everyday you have someone survive a bullet wound to the head. Don't worry about it, I take pride in my ability."

"You a mutant?" she said, and Deadpool's heart skipped a beat in happiness.

"Ding, ding, ding, give the lady a raise!"

After that Deadpool felt like the conversation ran so much smoother. Familiarity really was the foundation for a good relationship. He tried to tell her as much, but all of a sudden the plane was rapidly slowing down and descending at a fast pace that popped his ears uncomfortably. He whined and brought his cuffed hands up to tug on his mask.

The widow ignored any of his comments and unbuckled herself heading for the cockpit. "We're here," she said over her shoulder as if he couldn't have figured that out himself. Rapid decline could one be one of two things. One, a rapid fall to destruction and hell; two, a super fast landing by a military jet.

Deadpool leaned over more in his seat, twisting his head unnaturally to get a good look out the small crappy window.

A large tower rose in his view. A very familiar tower. One, of course, he had never been to but he had definitely seen it on TV. "You guys are the Avengers!" he shouted in excitement. "That's so cool, I hadn't realized. Now that I think about it, it makes since. Is this a recruitment? I'm not that easy to buy, but I'll make an exception today. I'm in."

"We're not recruiting you. We're gonna interrogate you," Robin Hood yelled back.

The plane landed smoothly, Deadpool hardly noticed. Then, Robin Hood was back, pulling him up and marching him out of the plane. Deadpool took that to mean the man liked being touched, so he threw his cuffed hands over the man's neck and clung even tighter.

"Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?" he wondered.

"That's a gun, and if you don't let go and walk on your own the brain operation won't be the only one you'll go through today."

"Sounds kinky," Deadpool whispered back, still not letting go and running his hands through soft hair. Hmm, was that axe. Nice.

Then, all of a sudden, he was lifted and thrown out of the plane, rolling down the ramp and sliding against the smooth metallic walkway below. That didn't feel nice, he grumbled to himself and pushed back up onto his feet with less grace than normal.

The wind was strong up here and tugged at him relentlessly. While he was busy ogling the landing platform, a small looking man hurried out of a pair of sliding doors. His entrance stopped both him and Deadpool in their tracks.

Deadpool took in the man with a curious tilt of his head, a part of him felt like he should know the man. These were the Avengers after all. Famous and constantly on TV, and very much different from him. The small man, too, stopped in his tracks. Nervous hands twisting and turning around each other as he looked at Deadpool with wide eyes.

"Submissive. I can get onboard with that," he said, mostly to himself. Eyes still fast on the smaller man. But before he could start making anymore moves closer to the man, Widow and Robin Hood joined him on the platform, black packs slung over each of their shoulders.

Their entrance had the smaller man sagging with relief. And Deadpool knew something else that could have people sagging in relief.

"You know, I'm not a real doctor. You can't just call me when you need someone to stitch you up. You really should go to a real hospital in that case," the new man said, not making any moves to come closer.

"I don't think any real hospital doctors would appreciate this man. Besides he's already healed up," Robin Hood said.

This had the doctor breath a heavy sigh of relief. "I'm glad. I hate operations."

Deadpool hated doctors, but a small part of him said he would happily play patient for this man. Maybe they could switch it up and he could be the doctor, he'd give one hell of a check up. Leave no place, or hole, untouched.

While in his little la la land, the Widow strolled passed him and made her way to the doctor. "He's still got a bullet in his head, better get that out. Maybe his craziness will go away."

"Hey, now. I'm still here. No talking about me behind my back."

Robin Hood just grabbed him and pulled him along towards the entrance. "That doesn't even make sense. We can't talk about you behind your back if you're in front of us."

"Welcome back, Hawkeye and Black Widow," greeted a voice from the ceiling.

Deadpool studied the ceiling with narrowed eyes. Invisible things were not to be trusted.

"Hey, JARVIS. We're back. You got the med bay ready for us?" Robin Hood wondered; not stopping in his tugging of Deadpool.

"Of course, sir has set everything up, so if you would head that way."

The doctor and Widow pushed themselves into the back of the elevator far from Deadpool. "I don't bite," he said, feeling the need to defend himself. His comment got him three rather stinky eyed looks, so he snickered and quietly added, "much."

"Why are we helping him?" the doc wondered. His hands still nervously twining around each other.

"He dropped in on our operation and sabotaged our only chance to get at our target. He's in custody until we can figure out what he was doing there and what he knows of the target," Widow replied.

"Hey, no blaming me. I didn't know anyone would be in that run down building. I was just making my way through," Deadpool quickly added in.

"Doesn't matter what you were doing there. In the end, we were unable to finish our job because of you. Our boss wants to speak to you… after we get the bullet out," Robin Hood said, voice gruff and eyes trained on the doors.

"Boss?" Deadpool wondered. "The Avengers boss?"

"We work with SHIELD," the Widow said, and Deadpool groaned.

"SHIELD doesn't like me. I got rejected a long time ago by them. Bastards said I was unstable."

"Thank God," the doctor said quietly, maybe to himself, but Deadpool heard him clearly and turned around.

"I feel like I should know you. Swear I've seen you somewhere before." He tried to step closer to the doc to get a better look but the hand on his arm tightened and drew him back to face the elevator doors again.

They pinged open and he was pulled through. The white hi-tech lab on the other side very different from any other medical facility Deadpool had ever spent his time at. "Pinch me I think I'm dreaming," he said with wonderfilled eyes as he took in some sort of apparatus that was spinning round and round at a fast speed.

"I can punch you," the Widow said, face straight and completely serious.

"You don't play well with others, do you?" Deadpool said, eyeing her warily.

"Did you guys bring a comedian back or something," said a very familiar voice. One he had heard on TV often. "What's with the red? I'll only say this once, but I look 100 times better in that color than you."

"Rude," Deadpool answered. Turning to take in the man known as Tony Stark. He was shorter than he'd expected. Hair all ruffled up and wired eyes that made him look like he hadn't slept for days. "I'm cuter."

"I'm sure you are," the man replied, standing with his arms cross and chin held high, arrogantly.

"I can see the house and the fire part now," he whispered conspicuously to Robin Hood.

"So I was listening in to you guys conversation-" Tony began.

"Wow, double rude."

"-And you said his wound had already healed up, so how are we gonna get the bullet out?"

"Did I mention drilling?" Deadpool wondered, looking about at the horrified faces that stared back at him. "What, do I have something in my teeth?"

"Most aren't so happy about self-mutilation," the doctor said, finally moving closer so that he could get a better look at him. He must have felt more comfortable in this environment.

"That's my secret, I'm always happy."

"Do you mind taking the mask off so I can get a good look at where it entered?" The doctor continued, ignoring his comment.

"Sure, take off all you want, I'm not shy. Though, don't be too startled by what you find underneath."

The doctor looked over to Stark, and Deadpool followed his gaze. "Is there a faction here that I'm not getting? Cause I'm getting confused. Are we following Robin Hood or the weapons maker?" His comment caused Stark to flinch, hurt filling his eyes for just a moment before being smoothed away by a steely look.

"There are no factions here. Nor leaders," commented Robin Hood, and Deadpool all of a sudden, felt rather stupid.

"Oh, I see. They're like," he banged his pointy fingers together, "you know, like bam shaka bang bang."

"Like what?" Stark said with confused eyes.

"We're not like that!" the doctor exclaimed, clearly the fastest at picking up his meaning. Robin Hood on the other hand was bent over laughing trying to say something between his ragged breaths. The Widow just looked exasperated. All in all, Deadpool was rather proud of himself.

"No need to get your panties in a twist, ladies. I'm a very open-minded person. Besides it would be very hypocritical of me if I said anything."

"Can we just get the bullet out of his head," the Widow said.

"Um, sure," the doctor said, still standing stiffly before Deadpool. "Should I?" He lifted his hands to show what he meant and Deadpool just shrugged, unconcerned.

The doctor ran gentle hands over his neck and shoulders searching for the opening, and Deadpool gave a pleased shiver, causing the man to stop in his tracks with deer like eyes. "Oh, don't stop on my account, please continue."

Stark snorted and moved closer, dark eyes far more calculating than anything Deadpool was usually used to. "Just make him take it off himself or we could always make JARVIS do it. He has control over all the robotic arms in here."

"Did you just say robotic?" Deadpool questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"JARVIS runs this building. He will be the one performing most of the operation."

Deadpool backed up at that, hands going up and accidentally throwing the doctors hands off of him. "Nu-uh, I don't do robots. Cold, spidery, most likely tentacle arms winding around me, into me. Ugh. I mean, I'm all for trying new things, but some things just shouldn't be tried."

"I am sure that whatever you are worried about, Deadpool, is not part of my circuitry," JARVIS said, once again coming from the ceiling and echoing around the room.

"He's listening," Deadpool whispered with a conspiratorial voice.

Stark just groaned and took the last steps over, bringing his hands up to tear the mask off. "He's part of the building, he's always listening. Stop being such a little girl."

The mask came off and the room ran even more quieter and became even more still than ever before.

Deadpool finally got enough and leaned over Stark who stood the closest and went, "Boo."

The man actually flinched some before blinking and smothering his face over with a blank mask. "Cute, right."

"Hey, no insults. That actually hurts. I'll have you know, I once looked like an angel."

The doctor shook his head. "Just sit down on the gurney."

Deadpool happily did so, even skipping a little as he made his way over there. The doctor and Stark followed after. Stark dropping his mask on a nearby metallic table. The two others, Robin Hood and Widow, had taken up a stationary posture further away.

"They guards or something?" he wondered, squinting his eyes at them as if it would somehow reveal something to him.

"You make one wrong move, dead guy, and we'll empty our bullets in you," Widow replied.

"Ouch, that hurts. I've been all accommodating; haven't fought back or anything and you guys still act like I'm about to do a 360 and hurt you."

Stark was pulling off his gloves and freeing his hands from the tight leather; fastening some sort bity apparatus onto his finger. "I hope you mean 180," he said, off-handedly.

"Part of me feels like we're doing good cop, bad cop. They're the bad ones and you two, sweet sugar pies, are the good ones," Deadpool said with a large grin.

Both Stark and the doctor just stared at him blankly before turning to look at one another. "Tony, please tell me you have some general anesthesia in this med bay."

"I've got even better. I'm sure we got something that should put him out for… forever." Stark replied.

"Wow, tables turned. Hey, now. Just get the bullet, no other weird shenanigan," Deadpool said, bringing still cuffed hands up as if to ward them off. "I should have known better than to trust doctors."

Stark was now working on the buckles to his swords, and Deadpool wasn't sure if he wanted to stop the man or not. A comment was on the tip of his tongue, but the doctor was filling up a long looking, deadly, needle with something that clearly would not end well for him.

"We're scientists, not doctors," Stark rather unhelpfully added.

Deadpool frowned and helped move his arms in such a way that the man could take off his weapons. "Why am I here, then?"

"Tony has the best medical equipment in the whole world and JARVIS should be able to do brain operations without any problems," Robin Hood answered, looking bored.

"Should," Stark commented, "We haven't actually ever tried before. But, since you're undead I can't see this going in a failure." He finished his sentence with a placating pat to Deadpool's knee.

"Oh, now I'm relieved," Deadpool drawled.

Stark and the doctor were both pushing on him to lay him flat against the gurney. Deadpool allowed it, enjoying the view of them looming above him. This was nice, he thought. Different but nice. And now, he also got a closer look at the doctor and a light bulb flickered on to life above him. "You're the Hulk!" he exclaimed, happily. "Can't believe I didn't recognize you. I always thought you'd be bigger and, you know, angrier. Not that I'm complaining. This view is nice."

Stark snickered next to the man and the Hulk shot him a reproachful glare.

"Name's Bruce Banner. I'd rather you call me that."

"I'll call you whatever you want, sugar pie," Deadpool answered, happy in his latest revelation.

"Apparently you won't," the doctor said, pulling out a small knife. "Unless you want to undress completely, I'm gonna cut a small hole to hook up an IV on you."

"For you, I don't mind undressing completely."

"I'll just cut a hole."

The IV was fastened smoothly and Deadpool barely felt it.

Stark was chatting with the machinery, which was weird. All other hospitals or medical facilities he had been to previously, that had never been part of it.

"You have voice activated programs?" he wondered.

Stark just grinned and patted the machinery lightly. "AI. Voice activation was so last century. Besides JARVIS is an AI and he is programmed into almost all my machinery and equipment."

"Right, and this AI is gonna do the operation?"

"Only part, Bruce will take the bullet out. We're gonna need to x-ray you and shit, all which will be done once you've gone under," Stark said, waving his hand at him.

"Why after, why not now?"

"We don't want to listen to you anymore," Bruce, the good and rather cute doctor, said, pressing a needle into his hand before he had time to reply with anything.

The world tilted and faded at his vision. He opened his mouth to say something, words slurring and then he was out of it. Sound being the last to filter out.

 **/Tsubasa**


	2. Chapter 2

Loud beeping was shrill in the med bay area.

"Sir, he is healing up again," JARVIS said, a note of hurry could be detected in the AI's voice.

"This isn't good, Tony. Most people's brains don't heal up completely around a bullet."

"Shit," was all Tony said.

"If I may, sir, I would like to recommend that we drill further and cut away the extra that has grown around the bullet. So far, all the scans have shown that whatever we do, this man will heal it up in a few minutes. It would be best if we got this done quickly, my heart scan is showing that Dr. Banner's heart rate is steadily increasing." Tony threw a speculative look at the doctor still bent over the scarred and bloodied head.

"You're right, JARVIS. Bruce, you heard him, back off a little and we'll go deeper."

"You sure, Tony. I mean, I'm with you on the _he won't die_ part, but we're practically gonna destroy his brain."

"Well, as it is now, his healing rate is almost eating your pincers."

Bruce backed off and held up bloodied pincers that also contained small brain matter from when he had held it against the brain tissue for too long and it had started healing around it.

"This man is messed up," the doctor said. "Go at it, JARVIS. I really just want to finish this up and forget I ever had to do something like this."

A drill came to life.

—V—V—

"Sweet fucking Jesus, my mouth tastes like grandma's used underwear. Like at least five days of use. And not the good kind, like she pissed in them and everything." These were the first words he managed to get out of his mouth when he came to. His head pounding and his mouth a horribly dry desert that tasted just awful.

"Do you think we gave him brain damage?" a small voice came floating in.

"From the video feed we went over it seems like he was like this before," another voice answered. "He's waking up pretty fast, though. Thought he'd be out for at least a couple of more hours."

"He's showing about the same metabolic rate as Steve, so I guess if we want to keep him out longer we're gonna need stronger drugs."

"JARVIS, inform Black Widow and Hawkeye that their prisoner is awake. Have them stationed close by."

Deadpool managed to blink open his eyes and gave the two men an accusing stare. "Prisoner, really."

"You don't get to speak," the weapons maker said. "Do you have any idea what we just had to go through to get that bullet out of your head?"

"Please don't mention it," the doctor said. "I still feel nauseous just thinking of it."

Deadpool took in the two as well as he could from his position, they did indeed seem pale. Not a good kind of pale, like a swimmers speedo-less ass kind of. The doctor stood by some screens and barely glanced up at him and the weapons maker glared down at him from his nose, arms crossed. They looked happy.

What a sweet welcome back into reality.

"Well, this is nice. Did you guys start playing without me?" Deadpool said, waving his hands from where they were strapped down. He was still in his outfit, though. Weapons gone, but that was a small thing. He had, after all, no interest in attacking any of the Avengers.

"Your vitals look good," the doctor, Bruce, began, "but I still want to do a complete check up."

Deadpool twisted his head unnaturally to stare at the doctor. The previous nervousness was gone. The big brown eyes met his own head one. He huffed a little and smiled to himself. "You were cuter before."

They both ignored him but he could clearly see the tick in their jaw and that was pleasing enough.

Bruce grabbed somethings off the metal table and made his way over; sinking down in a plush chair. "Since you're already so talkative, I'll assume you'll live," he said, reaching over to flash a bright light into Deadpool's eyes. "Follow the light for me."

Deadpool blinked a little in annoyance but in the end did no such thing. He instead smiled happily up at the man leaning over him, taking in brown eyes and hair. So many comments he could make.

"Are you gonna cooperate and get this over with?" the doctor wondered.

He blinked up at him innocently, dragging his eyes over the man suggestively. "I don't know. Will you make me?"

Stark growled from somewhere in the room and his footsteps quickly approached the gurney he was strapped to. A small sliver device was shoved in his face and another pair of deep eyes glared down at him. "This won't leave any lasting damage but I can promise you it'll hurt a lot."

"Tony!" the doctor shouted in disbelief.

Stark's eyes did not leave his, but he growled out a "what" to the doctor.

"We don't hurt people for small things like this," the man tried to explain. Stark just continued glaring.

"I looked you up," Stark said to Deadpool. "You're a psychotic mass murderer."

"Why, thank you. I think that's the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"You're not even ashamed of what you've done."

Deadpool pulled hard with his right hand and felt the straps give-he'd been playing with those for a while now. His hand shot up and grabbed a hold of Stark's T-shirt, bringing the man closer to him. Stark for his part froze and tried to flinch back and the doctor's eyes flashed green as he, too, leaned over and grabbed a hold of Deadpool's wrist.

"Oh, I don't do shame. Everyone I've killed or maimed, believe me, I took great pleasure in it. Every single one of those men and women they deserved it," he said, ignoring the stand down that apparently had taken place between them. "Do you regret the ones you've killed, weapons maker?"

Stark's answer was to press the device down hard upon his chest. Deadpool gasped out a sharp yelp, back arching and his hand slid off the man's shirt.

He chuckled his way through the pain, mostly unbothered. "Rude," he said quietly, pleased to see the slight regret in Stark's eyes.

"Will you do as Bruce says and just get your check up over with?"

"Ah, you guys are a cute bunch. So quick to anger." He waved his hand at the weapons maker before lowering it back to the gurney in a show of surrender. "Sure, sure, I'll do what he wants."

The door slid open into the med bay and Robin Hood stepped through. Dark brows furrowed over intense eyes. "You guys okay?"

"Back-ups a little late, but don't you worry your little head, Robin Hood, I wouldn't hurt these lovely ladies. I'm the perfect kind of patient."

"I highly doubt perfect is a word to describe you," the man replied. His bow was out and his hand hovered over a quiver.

"I like your style: bow and arrow. Mind if I try it?"

"Fury's on his way," Robin Hood said as if that was supposed to mean something for him. The words, however, did cause Stark to tense.

"Why is he coming here? This is my tower. Take your prisoner and interrogation elsewhere."

Man, did he sound pissed, Deadpool thought. "Trouble in paradise?"

"You, shut it," Stark growled, raising the small silver device again.

Deadpool just leaned up as much as he could with the other hand still strapped down. "Go on, I've been told I'm quite the masochist. I swear I was dreaming about this earlier, though the roles were reversed."

"Tony, drop the device," Robin Hood said, destroying his fun. "Don't you have something you were working on in your lab. I'm sure Bruce and I can take it from here."

"I really wanna go as well," the good doctor said to himself. Deadpool flashed him one of his winning smiles, it got him a dirty look in reply. These people were great. He knew they would be the bestest of friends before the day was out.

Stark dropped the device and stormed out. "I want him gone from here when I come back out of the lab, you hear me?"

Robin Hood groaned and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

Deadpool for his part gave off a regretful sigh and looked after the man with sad eyes. "No need to be mean. He and I were having a lovely conversation, I could feel us bonding."

"Whatever bonding that was taking place was one-sided," Robin Hood said and made his way over. A new pair of shackles appearing in his hands and he fastened the right hand back down. "I'm sure you'll have even more fun once you get to meet Fury. You seem like the sort of person who would enjoy his talks, and I'm the sort of person who will happily enjoy handing you over to him."

"SHIELD boss, right?" he said. "I wonder if he's the one who sent me that letter. That was just low, hit right at my soft spot. I have lots of soft spots, I'm a woundable kind of guy. That letter just went and made fun of me, called me names and said I couldn't be trusted. Please, me. Not trustable. I highly doubt I'm the problem."

Bruce who had calmed down enough, added his two cents into the conversation, "I'm glad to know delusion was something you had before the operation. I would have felt bad if we had caused this."

"Oh, you guys haven't caused anything. The guy who caused this—fucking Francis—that fucking douchebag is regrettably dead. Should have kept him alive longer, so I could show him my appreciation. Hate not to meet up to people's expectations of me. And oh, did Francis have expectations. That bastard—God, just talking of him pisses me the fuck off!"

Deadpool rolled back and forth on the gurney, anger making him unable to stay still.

"Yeah, let's not talk of him, then. You think you can let the doc finish his check up?" Robin Hood asked, hand hovering over his gun holster.

Deadpool pushed his head back into the uncomfortable plastic bedding. "Fuck, now I'm mad," he shouted at nobody and nothing in particular. His hands banging down into the metal framing and feeling how they gave slightly under him.

Bruce was backing up again, a wild look in his eyes. The look caused Deadpool to still, eyes zooming in on the smaller man. "Oh, not at you, sweetie pie. Besides I'm sure big bad Robin Hood over here won't let anything happen to you." The man made no move to get closer, his eyes just flittered nervously between Deadpool and Robin Hood. "I'll be good. See. I'm ready for that check up."

Robin Hood nodded for him to continue, and the doc moved closer again. Flash light coming up to obstruct his view once again.

"Follow the light, right?" Deadpool said, trying to be on as good behavior as he could. He did after all want to get up, maybe take a piss or something. Hopefully they could feed him before throwing him to the boss man, Furry.

—V—V—

A check up later and he was off the gurney. Stretching his lovely body this way and that. The pops that followed were wonderful.

A low rumble reminded him that he was starving. "Who's up for some grub?" he asked. "I could do with a double cheeseburger and one of those milkshakes. Love milkshakes. Who's ever idea it was to make that shit, God, give them a gold star."

"You don't ever stop talking, do you?"

"Robin Hood, the sound of my voice brings people to tears."

"Tears of frustration," the doctor said quietly, packing up the devices he had been using.

"That, too," Deadpool happily agreed. "So, food?"

"You can get an energy bar. We're going directly to Fury, he's waiting for you," Robin Hood said, snapping new more hi-tech cuffs onto his wrists.

Deadpool sighed and rotated his hands, feeling how tight they sat. "Starvation, not very original."

"I'm pretty certain sugar is the last thing you should be given," his, for the moment, captor said.

"I could live on sugar. Sugary pancakes that is."

"If you guys damage him again, take him to another doctor or, better yet, let him heal on his own," the doctor said as he inched his way to the door.

"Let's play doctor-patient another time; this time I'll be the doctor," Deadpool called out, waving a happy goodbye to the doctor who was bolting out of the room. "Ah, friendship."

"Seriously, man," Robin Hood commented.

"What?" he said. "I didn't have many friends when I was young. I treasure this sort of connection. Maybe you're too stiff, if you loosened up some I'm sure you'd have lots of friends."

"If that was all that was the problem here," the man muttered and tugged harshly on Deadpool's cuff links.

Deadpool made sure to snatch up his mask on the way out and pulled it on. There was no way he was walking about without it. What was an antihero without his mask anyways?

"Hey, easy with the merchandise, big man. I'll have you know I'm worth a fortune."

"Less talking more walking."

Deadpool could multitask. It was a talent he was proud of. Walking and talking, no problem. He could do it all day. Though, truthfully, he had spaced out some during their walk because, seriously, a mirror they had passed had definitely talked to him. That was just creepy. Talking mirrors. The little shit better have only good things to say or it was going to find itself in a dumpster pit.

"I'll move in. What's the rent?" he asked, admiring the floor to ceiling windows, his reflection sparkling back at him.

"You're definitely not moving in."

"We can be roomies!" he exclaimed happily. "Aw, how great wouldn't that be. Share stories late into the night. We can have pillow fights-"

"Definitely not moving in!"

"You see, what you're lacking is intimate friendship."

Robin Hood growled deeply. "What you're lacking is a filter."

There were so many more things Deadpool wished to say. Their time together was definitely helping this poor merc open up to his suppressed inner feelings. Sharing was caring after all, and Deadpool loved sharing things. Even condoms. Well, maybe not condoms, unless he really had to.

Then, soft loving music was playing in his ears. Soft and melodic, that was filling his heart with love. His mouth drying and his heart sped up.

"Oh, my God. Captain America." He was not ashamed of the way his voice cracked because this, was love. Sweet, unbridled, teenage love.

The man was coming towards him and it was as if time had stopped.

Or, you know, Captain America had frozen in his tracks with uncertain eyes.

Deadpool ignored small minor details like that. Because the national hero was looking right at him, and he couldn't help himself but raise his hand and flutter his fingers at the man, knees going weak.

"Hawkeye," the man said, and Deadpool imagined it was his name being called out between those luscious lips.

"Captain," Robin Hood said, "please ignore him."

"He the one who's meeting Fury?"

"I don't mind meeting with you either," he had to add in, because personal time with this hero was on the top of his bucket list.

"He causing you problems?" the captain wondered.

Deadpool gave off a happy purr at the sound of the man's voice. "I don't mind if you and I cause a problem together."

"Nah, he's all talk."

"Oh, now I feel insulted," he complained. "I'll have you know I have lots of action in me. All kinds of actions."

"Yeah, why don't you shut up. You can show all your actions to Fury later." Robin Hood had apparently gotten tired of their bonding time, and pushed him into a deep spacious room with only one table.

"Going back to cops and robbers, are we?"

"I've heard a great deal about you, you certainly live up to our expectations," a deep baritone voice said.

Deadpool twisted around, but only he and his two hero guards could be seen.

"You the Furry I've heard so much about?"

"A funny man," Furry said. "We'll see how long that lasts."

"A challenge. Don't cry when you lose."

"I'm Nick Fury, director of SHIELD."

Deadpool sighed and hung his head. "Right... boss man."

Robin Hood pushed him into an uncomfortable chair and fastened his hands behind the back of it before stepping away, most likely to stand guard behind him. Captain America, though, remained before him. Arms crossed. Lovely patriotic eyes sparkling down upon him.

Deadpool tried waving his fingers at him again, but with them being behind his back he wasn't quite sure the hero saw it. So sad. The captain could use some relaxation, maybe they could go on a spa together; get those shoulders to relax. They could massage each other all night.

His dream was destroyed by the man who was most likely Furry stepping in through another set of doors. Black trench coat billowing behind him.

"Ah, classic villain outfit. You even got an eye-patch," Deadpool said.

"You've been quite a problem lately, Wade Wilson. We've had intel following you around and I can't say you've given any good impressions."

"Oh, I don't do good. Tried it once, wasn't really my kind of thing."

"Is that so, well that is too bad for you, because right now I have a cell with your name on it," Furry said. "I've heard Raft is a very accommodating kind of place. You'll fit right in."

"Please, tell me it doesn't use bar soap."

"Jokes won't save you from it."

Deadpool rolled his eyes and shifted his shoulders. "And do tell, what will?"

Furry ignored his question and walked about the room. The one eye-and how creepy wasn't that-stared at him the whole time.

"You've lived a rather vigilante kind of lifestyle."

"I wouldn't go that far," Deadpool interrupted before the man could continue. "I just do what i want to do."

"That may be so, but we can't allow that any longer. Men like you-"

"Free."

"Self-important, self-obsessed powerhouses with a chip on their shoulders."

"Yeah, okay, we can go with that."

The Furry man had come back around and leaned his hands against the table. "Those are the sort of men we usually end up having to hunt down."

"Well, aren't you lucky. No hunting needed this time."

"That may be so, but you still disrupted my agents' mission. Things like that, I can't let it stand."

"I, honest to God, swear I don't know anything about anyone that the vicious redhead was there for."

"Oh, I don't doubt that."

Deadpool tilted his head. This felt like a trap. "So, I'm free to go?"

"I've got a proposition for you?" the man said. This had good old Captain America shifting his stance uneasily.

He zoomed in on that movement and narrowed his eyes. "You're making Cap here all nervous, I don't like that. Bad, Furry," he scolded. "Besides, I don't take work from the government."

"This won't be for the government," the Furry man said.

"Oh, unofficial, how bad of you. You really want me, don't you?"

"If you can prove to me that you mean no ill or harm to anyone as well as prove that you have the ability to take orders, I'll reconsider throwing you in jail."

"And how am I supposed to prove this?" he wondered.

Nick Fury just smiled and leaned closer; Deadpool wrinkled his nose and turned his head away.

"From this moment on, you're the unofficial new member of the Avengers."

"Who, me?" Deadpool gasped out, pitch going high. "An Avenger. No way."

 **/Tsubasa**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Deadpool's personality is really difficult to write, I'm sorry if I'm completely messing it up. I definitely do not make the same kind of jokes as him. I've been like studying YouTube videos of his funny moments to try and figure out what he might say at certain situations. But, yeah...I'm probably failing, massively.**

 **Either way, please read & enjoy.**

—V—V—

"I'd like to begin on the note that I'm not a hero. And… last I checked, the Avengers were all for being heroes, calling themselves The Earth's Saviors or some crap like that. Well, newsflash, One Eyed Villain, I don't do the hero thingamajig, so pack it up and take it elsewhere." Deadpool narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips sending all his vibes of dislike at the boss man.

Captain America shifted from foot to foot and looked back and forth between the two. "I don't get it," he said, lifting his arm and waving it before his own face, eyes confused. "Are you trying to tell us something? Your mask is moving, but…"

Deadpool growled and ceased his narrowing. "Oh, for the love of—" he growled. "Yeah, I'm trying here. Death stare, hello. A hate filled glare and so on."

"Man, lose the mask." Deadpool heard coming from behind from a snickering Robin Hood.

The furry man who was more leathery in Deadpool's opinion just snorted and ignored the comment. "Good thing we don't need a hero, then."

Ignoring the wannabe Robin Hood, Deadpool brought his attention back to Furry. "And that is supposed to make me feel better, how? You've backed out of the saving people business, or something?"

A screen flickered on before him, showing him in all his red and black glory; kicking ass of course.

"I assume you remember this?" Furry said.

Deadpool hummed, eyes rapt on his tight spandex clad ass as he handed it to those wannabe science douches. "One of my better days this month."

"Then, I'll assume you remember this as well." The screen fast forwarded and slowed, zooming in on him as he made his way towards a large metallic ring structure that laid suspended a meter or so in the air. It was definitely something he remembered, cool looking as it was. He'd kind of hoped it would send him to the moon or something. Maybe even go Stargate on him, but the useless piece of junk had done none of that. As a matter of fact, it had done nada. If it had been smaller maybe he would have packed it down and sold it on the black market or something.

"Junk," he said, already losing interest in the interrogation. If there wasn't going to be any blood he might as well not be here; his hands continued worked tirelessly on the contraption that was keeping them together.

"Space junk," Furry agreed, pausing the video. "And you know where to find it."

Stilling, he looked back at the video. "I thought we just agreed that it was junk. Why would you want it, that's the question?"

"As I understand," Furry began, "it is kept in a very secretive and secure location. One which, sadly, we can't access, but I've heard you can. You help us get this and we'll talk more about keeping you out of Raft."

"What makes you think I wouldn't be interested in going to Raft?" he wondered, leaning forward; sharp grin showing even through the mask. "Now, that place is what I would call secretive and secure. This other place—" He nodded his head at the screen in boredom. "—is nothing in comparison."

"I didn't take you as someone who was willing to give themselves up so quickly. To lose your freedom."

Deadpool snorted and tugged on his hands, feeling how the metal loosened. "Oh, please. Who says I'm giving myself up? You think you and your little team of heroes can keep me?"

"As a matter of fact, I know we can," Furry replied back, just as sharp.

Good old captain shifted on his feet and looked anything but in agreement. "If you help us, you'll be able to redeem yourself for some of the crimes you've committed," the Captain said. Honest open blue eyes staring down on Deadpool. And didn't that wide-eyed stare just break his heart open.

"Oh, I'd jump you," he said, enjoying the view of the muscular form before him. "I bet you have your little fans here all wrapped around your little finger, right, captain? Think you can give the order and all will jump. And oh, won't I jump. Just not on your command. And your little freedom fight—I'm a big fan, but no one wants a poorly made fan service."

"If you have something to say, say it," Captain growled in frustration. "Will you help or not?"

Deadpool was close to laughing with how easily they were all riled up. "You've got a lot of titles, it's hard to remember them all. Which one do you prefer? Captain of the Americas, national hero, the defrosted one, baby-faced pucker lipped national treasure?" The captain shifted uncomfortably upon his words. "You want me to redeem myself. I'm laughing, I really am. You might not be able to see it, but deep down I'm ROFLing—"

"He's what?"

"Rolling on the floor laughing," Robin Hood helped.

"Exactly. That's what I'm doing. And, while meeting you, lovely captain, was definitely on my bucket list—Redemption, of any kind, is not."

Deadpool could have sworn he heard a thin string snap as the captain stepped forward and leaned over him. "What do you want?"

Glee was building inside of him at the show the good captain was giving. Absolutely priceless.

"Captain," Furry broke in, "we do not negotiate with criminals."

"Then tell me, Furry the furless man, what has all this been up until now if not a negotiation to get me to agree with you? To join your ragtag team of superheroes."

"Oh, Wade Wilson, you always think you're above the law. So far, all this has been is an ultimatum. You either join the Avengers and do this mission, or I go ahead with my orders from above and throw you into the depths of Raft. And I'll promise you, once you're in you will never get out again."

"I prefer the captain's way," he said.

The snap of the cuffs was loud in the bare room. Robin Hood lunged forward the moment he noticed that the cuffs were falling to the floor. Deadpool, however, was much faster at reaching his target, shooting out of his seat and using the surprise to pull Captain America close to him. His other hand going up to tug his mask up over his mouth and nose. "If you can heal this, I will consider helping you find the space engagement ring."

The room stilled. Robin Hood with his hands on a gun, and Furry stood, loose and relaxed, at his little place in the corner. But oh, was that glare poisonous.

"What makes you think we can help?" Furry asked.

Captain continued staring down at Deadpool with his clear blue eyes. They were slightly narrowed and his lips were pressed thin but he made no move to tear Deadpool off.

"Not SHIELD," Deadpool growled, tightening his grip on the captain.

Captain America glared right back, strong hand coming up to grab ahold of his wrist; squeezing the bones together. It was painful, the man's superhuman strength was truly nothing to play with. Deadpool gritted his teeth and bared with it.

"Captain here knows what I'm talking about."

Furry stomped closer, returning back into his line of sight. "Captain?" he said quietly.

"Director," the captain said, using his strength to tear each of Deadpool's fingers off of him and push him back towards the chair. "Stark might be able to."

"I knew it!" Deadpool shouted happily. Bouncing away from the grasping hands of the captain and raising his hands in surrender towards Robin Hood who adjusted his grip on the gun and held it steadily pointed towards his head.

"You shot and you'll have another bullet to dig out."

"I'll leave it in this time," Robin Hood said, gun cocking.

Furry made no move to have either of the two men stand down, he just took in the scene in quiet contemplation. After a second or so, he huffed and moved back to lean across the table. "Stark is many things but a doctor is not one of them. What makes you think he could heal you?" Furry said as if that would somehow dampen Deadpool's mood.

The captain shook his head. "I'm not sure. All I know is that he and Dr. Banner have been working on something new: a device that should be able, theoretically, to heal almost anything."

Deadpool clapped his hands together happily and danced on the spot. "Good enough for me. So, villainy villain, if you sweet talk that weapons maker into giving me back my angelic self I'll help you find that space junk, sounds good?"

—V—V—

For Tony Stark, the blast of loud heavy music was the perfect way to relax and concentrate on the work before him. Letting previous memories and worries slip away, down the drain. And that was exactly what he wanted right now. No more thinking of that horrible operation he had been forced to go through with or the annoying man, Wade Wilson.

He was leaned over his desk trying to fix the propeller on his left glove. It had been acting up during their last mission and he wanted to get it fixed and done with as soon as possible. The Avengers had been busy lately, all kinds of weird missions had been popping up for them. Thankfully none had had anything to do with alien portals. Things like that were just too close to Tony's nightmares.

He bit down hard on his teeth and tightened his grip on the soldering tool. "Raise the volume, JARVIS."

"As you wish, sir."

Once he had finished putting the last piece back together all he had to do was run a final calibration. He skimmed through his programming with practiced hands. All looked good. "Run it."

"Starting calibration. Estimate time: 2 hours," the AI's voice said.

"Let it run in the back; bring up project H8," he said as he moved away from the workbench. Before him a holographic image lit up of a bow. Or what was yet to become a bow. It was his latest little pet project for Hawkeye.

He had barely begun work on it when JARVIS' mechanical voice quietly interrupted him. "Sir."

"Not know, JARVIS. A little busy here."

"I think you should see this."

The music was shut off and Tony jerked up angrily, glaring at a hidden camera close by. "JARVIS," he growled.

Another screen flickered on, showing the room that Nick Fury had apparently decided to interrogate the bastard, Wade Wilson, in. Soon after, the sound switched on and Tony watched as Fury leaned over the table and welcomed the annoying man into the Avengers.

He stiffened, project forgotten as he glared at the screen. "No way is that man staying here. Whatever the director is playing at, he's playing it alone."

Thankfully it seemed Wilson also had no interest in the Avengers, and Tony was holding his thumbs with baited breath just waiting for him to be thrown in jail.

"Come on, he wants to go. Just take the little shit," he growled at the screen.

"Sir, shall I remind you that they cannot hear you."

"Comments like that is what's gonna make me send you to state college, JARVIS."

"Of course, sir. Wouldn't want that."

"Such sass. Who taught you that?"

"I believe you did, sir."

"Yeah, blame it on your creator," Tony grumbled.

He accidentally bent a thin metal rod he held in his hands when he heard the captain mention his and Bruce's pet project. "I hope he didn't say what I just thought he did."

"Would you like me to rewind?" JARVIS added in.

"I would never agree to this. What could we possibly need him for that I couldn't find? My surveillance system is top notch. There's no place I can't find."

"Except for the inter-dimensional portal that they are currently discussing."

Tony sighed dramatically and threw the bent rod to the side. With a last glance at the screen he stormed out of the lab, pulling the still calibrating mechanical glove off the work bench. "It's my creation and I get to decide who it will be used for. And Wade Wilson will never make it on that list."

He took the elevator, fuming at the numbers as they flashed by until the doors pinged open. The room was locked when he pressed down on the handle and he growled angrily for JARVIS to open it. Inside all the four men remained standing much like they had done on the video feed before he had stormed out.

"Stark, you have no authority to be coming in here," Fury said, quickly making his way over to Tony.

"Last I checked, this was my tower. These are my rooms and all these stuff—They're mine."

"You must be popular in the sandbox," Wilson snidely commented.

The feeling of his glove assembling onto his hand gave him enough strength to make his way towards the man. "Don't think for a minute, that just because I helped take that bullet out that I won't hurt you." His advances were stopped by a strong hand from Hawkeye.

"I'm as angry as you, Tony, but back it off," he said.

"Hurt me? Like with that little vibrating device," Wilson said, head rolling on his shoulders. "Where did I place it? Ah—Here it is!" The man held up the silvery device that Tony had used on him earlier.

Tony stilled in shock at seeing it, then growled angrily when he realized the man had snuck it out of the med bay. "I don't like murderers. And you know what else I don't like, thieves," he hissed at the man, lunging forward to swipe the device from his hand.

The red dressed up man just cackled and danced back. At least he tried, thankfully, Captain America stepped in and grabbed ahold of the wrist. The crunch of bones was loud in the room and Tony could only stare shocked as the device was procured by the captain.

"Right…" he began but fell quiet again, uncertain what could be said in an instance like this.

Wilson was just staring at his dangling wrist with that infuriating head cock. "Ah, captain, I'm proud of you," the crazy man said. "Give me a hug, I never thought you had it in you and I was so wrong. Come here."

It was almost entertaining as much as Tony did not want to admit it: watching the two dance around each other. The captain backing away and circling around and Wilson taking every opportunity to try and get his arms around the man's shoulders.

"Well, I'll be taking my leave, this bullshit is below my pay grade," Fury said and made for the door.

Tony didn't waste a second in following. "Take your prisoner with you. Throw him into Raft like you promised."

They stood in the corridor facing each other. "I can't do that, Stark. As much as I would love to, he's the only one who's gotten close to that device. If the, as you call it, inter-dimensional portal falls into the wrong hands—as it already has, nothing good will come out of it. It's bad enough we have gods freeloading on our planet at their will. I won't have that device used by men who don't even know what's out there. Before you know it, we will have war again. A war—should I remind you—which we aren't ready for. So, play it nice. Lie if you have to but get Wade Wilson to that device. Find it."

 **/Tsubasa**


	4. Chapter 4

The common area in the tower was unnaturally quiet; Bruce Banner was by himself boiling up some tea. His hands had a fine tremor passing through them as he reached for a cup. Sighing, he clenched them hard before continuing with his task. His mind was on constant repeat, the sound of a phantom drill cutting through the air. If possible, he would love to forget today's event. Sadly, the other guy didn't do well with alcohol or he would be drowning in it.

"You okay?" Natasha wondered as she came into the room, footsteps silent against the wooden floors. Her hair was well-kept, and her facial features remained passive as normal. She seemed unbothered by what had taken place earlier. Bruce knew though, that she had watched.

She came up next to him and nodded questioningly towards the hot pot boiling away on the stove; he gave a lazy wave towards it to tell her to do as she wished before picking up his warm cup and heading for the bar.

He grumbled some as he got comfortable on the barstool and hunched his shoulders. "Fine."

Natasha joined him as he was sipping on his cup quietly and laid a warm hand over his. "Hey," she said, and he squeezed her fingers gently and he looked up at her.

"I'm okay. Nothing says calm and relaxing environment like picking around in someone's brain," he huffed, feeling a tired smile tug on his lips.

"You did well."

"I think that has got to be the first operation I've done were the survival rate wasn't going to be anything less than 100%," he commented and let go of her hand to press his own tight around his cup. Enjoying the heat that seeped, painfully hot, into his hands. "God, that man is messed up."

Her returning smile was weak. "We're all a little messed up here."

"Understatement of the year." Bruce enjoyed the quiet presence of her next to him and he glanced over to meet her eyes. "I'd love to be able to drown out these memories with alcohol, but we all know that wouldn't end well."

There was a certain stability for Bruce when Natasha's eyes didn't leave his. There was a focused kind of strength in them; something about her kept him sane and plastered together the broken pieces of him and made him as close to whole as he was bound to get. With her, his mind went quiet; no fierce tug for dominance and no irrational yelling of his inner beast.

"I'll always be here if you need something, so—"

Bruce understood what she wanted to say, there really was no need for her to voice it. "Yeah. Thank you, Tasha. Really."

"I'm serious, Banner, don't hesitate to complain. We all have to deal with Stark doing it all the time, who says you don't get to do so, too."

Bruce couldn't help but laugh, a clear image of Tony in his mind. "He does like to complain, doesn't he?"

"So, don't hold back on our part," she said, leaning close, and Bruce felt how his throat went dry. "I'm sure it would be—a less violent way to blow off some steam."

Natasha backed away some when he licked his lips and looked away. Feeling uncomfortable with where the conversation was leading them, especially so soon after he had felt so messed up. He might be an expert at the word calm now a days, but even he realized that pushing one kind of heart racing incident into another wasn't the best for him. And whatever he and Natasha might get into, he was certain it would be pushing him a little too far.

So, he shuffled away some and shrugged his shoulders. "Do you know what Fury wanted with him?" She gave no answer, but her steady, continuous stare told him what he needed to know. "Confidential, right," he mumbled. "Was he your target?"

"No," she said and sipped her tea; finally moving her gaze away from him and he felt how his shoulders sagged. "But not long ago we'd been given orders to capture him—if, of course, we came across him. I had no idea he would be there today."

"Lucky you."

"I'm sorry about the bullet. I should have aimed elsewhere." Bruce nodded dumbly. This really wasn't the problem. Sure, taking the bullet out had sucked but he wouldn't blame that on her, or any of them for that matter. All their lives were rather unconventional, and though they tried to have some semblance of normalcy, things just happened. There had to be some sort of bad luck in all their genes that would force them all to become the Avengers: that sort of hand wasn't given out by luck.

"You sure it's okay not to take part in the interrogation?" he asked, trying to break the topic of bullets or brains, or anything that brought the tremor back to his hands.

"They're all big boys, I'm sure they'll manage."

Bruce smiled. "I'm not a big boy?"

"Let's just say, we can all do with some company." He could agree with that. For the most part the tower remained empty. Just him and Tony, and they spent most of the time locked away in the lab. Natasha and Clint were out doing who knows what and rarely were seen around. Much the same could be said for Steve, though he tried to stick around more. He was still getting used to the 21st century after all. And Thor, well, Thor was a god and thus equally unable to answer when called. He would come around at some point, Bruce was certain of that.

Tony took that time to storm into the kitchen and head straight for the bar, a thunderous look upon his face. He didn't spare the two even a glance as he poured himself more than enough whiskey to keep most people happy for the rest of the night before chugging it all in one go.

Bruce and Natasha shared a startled look over their cups of tea. Bruce set his down gently, afraid of making excess noise. "You okay, Tony?"

The man barely glanced over, jaw tight as he glared down at his empty cup, breath overly regulated as he seemed to try and calm himself.

Bruce looked over at Natasha, taking in her _go talk to him_ gesture that she made with her hands in the direction of Tony. It was certainly not something he wished to do, he was trying to deal with his own problems and had no interest to add Tony's as well.

Finally, after a harsh jab and a pointed look he staggered off the bar chair and made his way around the counter to the mechanic. Tony took in his shuffled and rather hesitant walk with a raised unimpressed brow.

"Really, Bruce. How long have we known each other by this point? You really think I want to talk about it?"

"No one really wants to talk about any kind of problem, but that doesn't mean it might not help."

"I thought you told me you weren't that kind of doctor," Tony answered sarcastically. His voice harsh, and Bruce couldn't help himself but flinch slightly at it. There was a jab there that just shot straight through him.

"When has that ever stopped you from using me as such?"

Tony froze. Empty glass still held tightly in his hand.

"You're right. Fine, let's talk, cause that's clearly what you want." Tony slammed the glass down upon the counter, eyes still trained upon Bruce's own before taking the last couple of steps to put them uncomfortably close. "How about we start with Extremis, which was supposed to be finished months ago. The incorporation of it with JARVIS has been hitting wall upon wall and we aren't getting anywhere. And guess who just went and promised its use to a certain red-spandex clad man who'd I rather not talk about, our Captain did. Then, there is the inter-dimensional disk that we retrieved, and consequentially lost due to nothing less than that we were all too busy to protect it. Now, we've not only been ordered to retrieve it, but to do so with the help of the only idiot who actually knows where it is." Tony was breathing hard again, his chest heaving, and his brows pulled tight together.

Bruce licked his lips nervously and stepped back some. "So, we've been having setbacks. It's nothing new," he tried.

Tony pulled back at the words as if slapped and hissed furiously. "Setbacks? This isn't setbacks, this is complete failure on our part. No. Not just our part, on SHIELD's part as well. And now, they wish to use us not only to retrieve an object which I'm 100% certain was lost due to their mishap, they wish to use our device to heal a fool and they wish us to babysit the fool in the meantime. At no point—" Tony jabbed his finger at the closed door leading to the kitchen, "is this a setback."

Bruce couldn't quite meet the man's enraged eyes. He understood where Tony was coming from. It wasn't a good feeling. The last months or so had been tough on everyone, maybe more so for a man as proud as Tony was. He didn't do well to slow progress.

"Calm it, Stark," Natasha said quietly. Her previously relaxed posture was gone, and she was looking at Tony as a hawk might to its prey. The mechanic didn't react to her with anything more than a quick side glanced look.

"Tony," Bruce began, running a hand through his hair and tugging gently on the locks, "no one likes setbacks, or failures. None of us Avengers like being used either. It leaves a bad taste in all our mouths. With that being said can you go back to the babysitting part?"

"Wade Wilson has been ordered to remain at Avenger's Tower until he has helped us retrieve the IDP," the man managed to explain without losing his temper again, though he looked close to stalking back out of the kitchen.

"Okay, and he knows where the inter-dimensional portal is?" Bruce asked, trying to piece the puzzle together.

"Apparently so."

"You don't believe him?"

"I don't doubt he has come in contact with it previously. I do, however, think he is enjoying this situation far too much to be an unwilling prisoner of SHIELD."

Natasha made a startled noise, which caused the two men to turn to her. She smiled thinly and waved away their questionable looks. "It's nothing really. I'm sure that if it's some sort of dark scheme this Wade Wilson is planning, you two boys are more than capable of figuring it out."

"Your input would not be unappreciated," Tony said from between clenched teeth.

"Oh, no. I wouldn't dare think my input would be of any value to you." With that the Black Widow was slinking out of the kitchen, leaving the two men standing in silence. Tony fuming to himself and Bruce groaning internally at what was most likely to be an upcoming complaint session with the other man, again.

—V—V—

In another section of the tower, it was not at all as quiet.

"So…, can I keep the handcuffs?"

Captain America was standing deadly still, his eyes wide. He glanced over at the only comrade that could help him, Clint. Who was currently relaxed against the wall, head tilted and a playful curve to his lips. He opened his mouth to say something to the man, but the trail of a curious hand to his body made his mind go blank and eyes quickly flicker back to the red dressed man before him.

"Um," he began, capturing the wandering hand and glancing over at the handcuffs still being twirled in the other man's grip. "Technically, you don't need handcuffs while in the tower. JARVIS oversees all the rooms, there really is no reason to keep you cuffed."

"Hmm, technically isn't a no. So, how about I keep them. I'm sure we can come up with lots of things to use them for." The red dressed man pressed closer, and Captain America could think of nothing else but to step back. The masked face seemed pleased, and the captain really couldn't figure this man out. He really seemed to be one happy prisoner.

The cuffs clink was loud in the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Deadpool really liked these rooms. They were wide and spacious and no weird smells. Seriously, that had to be heaven. He almost felt bad taking off his boots, but there was a sadistic part of him that was enjoying introducing a vile smell to this impeccable place.

The shower, too, was to die for, and Deadpool certainly enjoyed it to his fullest. It was just too bad his favorite stuffed unicorn wasn't with him or he'd happily be introducing some more smells to the rooms.

He cackled happily to himself as he made his way to the door that lead out of his beautiful suite. Tugging on the handle, he heard the door groan under the weight of the pull but didn't open.

"Mr. Wilson, if I may," said an elder man's voice. JARVIS. Deadpool didn't particularly like the voice: it wasn't mechanical enough and there was a certain tone of scolding behind it. Far too British. Uptight.

"So, now you speak to me."

"Incessant hollering at the walls will not make anyone wish to speak with you…, Mr. Wilson."

Deadpool groaned and banged his hand against the door. "I'm sure you enjoyed watching me. I put on as good of a show as I could."

"I am not here to watch you fooling around in front of my cameras. Nor, do I believe sir would enjoy seeing it either."

He shot a razor-sharp grin towards the closest camera. "Will you be sending the videos to him?"

"If he wishes to access them, he may do so without contacting with me."

"And will you warn him?"

No reply was forthcoming. Deadpool snickered into the hard wood of the door.

"Do send me a video of his reaction," he told the floating voice. "Now open up. You said you weren't locking me up in this place. I demand basic human right and the freedom to wander."

"I believe decency is in order for me to allow you out," drawled JARVIS.

"Oh, is this how Tony sounds as well. Tony Stark, the man on top of the world. It's too bad he doesn't make weapons any longer, he was so good at it."

"You will find appropriate clothing in the closet," JARVIS answered, ignoring Deadpool's previous comments.

"Hmm, boring. Not bright enough. Not red enough. I want something comfortable." Deadpool stepped back from the door and made sure all of him was seen on the camera as he crossed his arms and pouted. "Send Tony Stark down here with something more comfortable. He can't be expecting me to dress as if I'm going to a press conference. We aren't all quite as sociable as him. Though… I do believe there is one kind of sociability he and I have in common." He playfully swirled his hips around, feeling the cool breeze of the air-conditioned room swish by his private area.

JARVIS had taken to ignoring him again.

Huffing, he stalked his way to the closet door and pulled it open with enough force to hear the hinges creak and hiss with strain.

—V—V—

Tony Stark did not do hesitating. Nor did he do regret. But both of those things were currently whirling around in him and making him unable to knock upon the door like he wished. He gritted his teeth and placed his knuckles against it, softly, not a knock like he had wanted. His body was rebelling, and that was just infuriating enough for him to turn his back on the door and stalk his way back down the hall.

"Tony?" A soft voice sounded behind him. Stopping, he groans at being caught sneaking away and glances back over his shoulder. "You usually don't come down here."

Bruce looked tired. He was leaning against the doorframe and massaging his fingers over the bridge of his nose, under his reading glasses. The look made Tony feel guiltier.

"You're usually in the lab," Tony replied, as if that was a good enough excuse to never come down and visit his friend in his rooms.

"Do you want to come in?"

Tony glared down the hall at the elevator before making his way over to Bruce. Feeling caught and unhappy with the turn of events; if he had just knocked like he was supposed to then this embarrassment could have been avoided. The man held the door open for him, and Tony pushed past him and sunk down into the first armchair he could reach. Back unnaturally straight and hands clasped tightly in his lap.

There was an uncomfortably long drawn out silence before Bruce heaved a heavy sigh.

"Tea?"

"Whiskey."

"You know I don't have alcohol down here," Bruce said and made his way to another armchair, clearly the one he had been occupying previously if the empty cup and book on the table before it was any indication. "Did you manage to get your reparations done?"

Bruce was talking about the glove. Of course, out of everyone, Bruce would be the one to notice that it broke during their last fight.

Tony grunts an affirmative, eyes fast on the book placed before the other man. He thought of questions or replies he could give. Small talk. He's not good at it, never had been. The doctor didn't seem to mind the silence though, just stared back at Tony calmly.

"Extremis was never an easy concept to integrate into an already finished system. JARVIS is a complex mind; a circuitry, much like any human, and Extremis is like a virus to that," Bruce said.

This wasn't really the conversation Tony had come down here for, but he could run with it. Maybe talking of it would easy the nervous tingle that seemed to be running rampant down both his arms.

"Killian was able to get it to integrate into the human system."

Bruce shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. "True, but it wasn't perfect. Insanity was one of its more negative effects. That and the fact that it was uncontrollable."

Not a good enough excuse for the two of them to be failing.

"If we can get it operational, it will be able to heal almost any kind of injury." Tony sunk further into his chair; a contemplating look crossed over his face. "SHEILD is already starting to sniff around. They'll demand we hand it over soon."

"Which I'm not against." The scientist had an exasperated look on his face, as if this sort of conversation had come up often between the two of them. Maybe it had. Tony honestly couldn't remember right now.

"It means giving out my secret to the public," Tony growled back, eyes flashing and hand coming up to massage against his aching sternum.

Bruce deflated and looked slightly chastised. "I know you don't want people do know how bad it is with the arc reactor, but maybe it's something they should know about. If I weren't here, you'd be trying to fix this all this by yourself. You'd run yourself to the ground before the reactor kills you."

"I wouldn't die," Tony said with confidence, and Bruce just rolled his eyes.

"At least tell the captain. You know I don't trust SHIELD either, but this can—no, will affect the team."

As always, Tony waved away his friend's worries, and Bruce is left feeling annoyed. The beast within him growling angrily and pushing against the restrains that kept him down. In other words, one hell of a headache was brewing.

"Fine. Don't tell anyone. Let this grow and become bigger than it needs to be. And when you lose control of the situation don't come complaining to me!"

Bruce was up and out of the chair before he knew it, marching his way towards his bedroom door. He needed space, for what felt like the fifth time this day.

Tony made a small noise behind him; that was enough to make him slow in his progress, waiting.

"Do you think I do it on purpose?" Tony wondered.

Bruce didn't know what to say to that. Didn't even understand where Tony was going with his question. "What? Annoy me?"

"Use you."

The answer is enough to cause him to turn around, eyes wide. Tony is looking at him. Straight at him. Steady, dark eyes that says he's all serious.

"Is this about earlier? In the kitchen?"

"You said I always use you."

Bruce is pretty certain that was not how he worded it, but Tony's the kind of guy who likes misquoting.

Bruce moved closer but didn't sit back down. "Tony, when it comes to your personality I think you know yourself better than anyone else."

Tony's eyes darkened at his words. "You think I do use you."

"Don't act surprised," Bruce answered back. "I'm certain that when you took a personality test you tried everything in your power to prove it wrong. You know exactly what kind of person you are."

Tony didn't answer, and Bruce let the silence draw on.

"We don't all just stick around because you're Iron Man, Tony. At least I don't. And to a rather high percentage of certainty I'm certain the rest of the Avengers don't either."

"You're trying to make me feel better," Tony said, heading cocking to the side; Bruce could tell he was trying to figure something out, trying to calculate his way into Bruce's head.

"Friendship isn't as easy as some movies makes them sound, but neither do they have to be overly complicated either."

Bruce tried to hold back a pleased smile at the insulted look on Tony's face.

"You think this is about our friendship?"

"Everyone worries about human interaction. Even the great Tony Stark," Bruce replied back, feeling like he was getting into the game.

"I know what people think of me. Expect of me," Tony said haughtily.

"And that's why you're here." Bruce was certain of this. Could practically see the uncertainty in the dark eyes before him. "You're afraid we're the same. The moment you're not tough enough, mean enough, we'll ditch you. Find someone else. If you don't meet up to our expectations, you think we'll abandon you."

A strained laugh left Bruce. "Man do you have abandonment issues."

Tony wasn't replying. His face had gone blank and the previous readable eyes had shuttered over. Bruce hated it.

"We're not leaving," he said quietly. "You're not pushing us away. So what if your personality could use some work. It's not like the rest of us are great role models."

"I'm pretty certain that is in our description as the Avengers. Role Model was definitely a have to have trait."

The smile that tugged on Bruce's lips this time was genuine. "Shitty personality and all, I think you're a pretty good role model." The words were worth saying for the flabbergast look he received back. "So, don't go worrying needlessly over our thoughts about you. We're the Avengers, we don't need to stick around if we don't want to. You're not caging us or forcing us."

Clearly there had been more heart-to-heart than Tony was ready for, for he looked close to collapsing. Bruce took pity on him and excused himself with a quick goodnight. Closing the door to his room with a soft click and leaving Tony to find his way out on his own.

—V—V—

Tony made his way to the common area. Quiet and deep in thought, he didn't even notice that someone else was up late and shuffling around the kitchen until the person was practically right on top of him.

"Weapons maker, who chewed on your chewing toy? Cause that complex sure as hell ain't natural."

Tony flinched at unnaturally warm hands that came up and dragged over his face. Wade fucking Wilson was right in front of him. Far too close into his personal space.

"Back it up, criminal," he growled and threw the hands off himself.

The man didn't move, and Tony finally relented and took a step back. He looked the man up and down and grimaced. "What are you wearing?"

Tilting his head, Wade stared down at himself with a pleased but confused look. "Mm. Clothes from my wardrobe. Weren't you the one who placed them there." He plucked at his shirt and meet Tony's eyes head on. "I personally love this shirt. Makes me feel close to one of Earth's mightiest heroes."

It was an Iron Man shirt that had in bold writing written across it: "I am Iron Man".


	6. Chapter 6

Tony ignored the crazed man and his unconventional style in outfit and made his way over to the bar. He needed a stiff drink. Something to muddy the memory of today, because this was not the sort of day he had signed up for when he agreed to be part of the Avengers Initiative. Crazy seemed to have taken on a whole new meaning.

He couldn't even pour himself a drink before a shot of some creamy shit was pushed into his face. "What the—!"

"I present a blowjob. Because we could all use one," Wade explained happily, leaning over the other side of the bar with the shot glass still held close to Tony's face. "I swear it works miracles."

"I don't like being handed things."

Scarred cheeks twitched up in what might have supposed to have been a smile. "Suite yourself. More for me then." He tilted his head back and took the creamy shot in one go.

Tony cringed.

The idea of alcohol had just lost its appeal. The still empty whiskey glass in his hand was put down. "Well, this was nice. Let's not do it again," he said, eyes anywhere but on the man still leaning over the counter towards him.

Far too close and now smelling of something sweet.

It would have to be a sober night. Something he sadly had gotten used to after the transplant of the arc reactor. Frustrated and not at all in the mood to see anyone anymore, he moved towards the elevator. His penthouse had everything he needed, there was no point in him being down here, except for the small part of him that sought the company of others. His, so called, teammates. Flat mates. And currently, the only human interaction he got on a daily basis.

"JARVIS, lock the liquor cabinet," he called out to the AI as an afterthought. Wade Wilson was forlornly looking down into his shot glass, and Tony knew that look. Knew that if given the possibility the man would raid the cabinet. Drink until reality took on a new kind of meaning. "Don't wait up, Wade Wilson. The cuffs might be off, but the jail door is still locked."

He heard the man move behind him and his spin tightened with the urge to turn.

"This will be the third time you run from me today." The quiet voice sounded loud in the empty room. "I never took you as a coward. I guess I should have. It takes one to hide behind a tin outfit after all."

Tony gritted his teeth and glared over his shoulder. "First of all, it's not an outfit. Second of all, it's not made of tin. Do I need to go on?"

Wade just grinned victoriously. "Not at all," the man replied, turning and heading towards the large floor to ceiling windows that lined the common area. The man pressed close to the glass and stared down as far as he could see.

Tony sighed and rubbed his hand over his lightly bearded jaw, glancing back towards his escape route.

"Life on top of the world," Wade said and rapped his knuckles against the glass. "Classy as shit."

Rolling his eyes, Tony made his way over to the window as well, keeping as much distance between the two as possible. "Hardly on top of the world," he replied back, and after a while added, "I could build higher."

"Like a god dissatisfied with his throne. You must have so much in common with that god-man, Thorian, wasn't it?" Wade drew the words out, his hand still trailing over the glass in a way that made Tony cringe. Finger print smudges were a hell to clean out.

"Clearly you've already had more than enough to drink for one night. If you want to continue babbling, do so either to an empty room and spare us mortals from your insistent chatter, or I'd recommend JARVIS, his humorless personality would fit you perfectly."

Wade just chuckled like the maniac he was. The perfect opportunity for Tony to make his way back to the elevator. This time he was certain to make his escape.

"But there is something you wish me to babble about, ain't I right?"

Damn, the man had made him stop again. Any more manipulation like this and Tony would happily throw the man off his tower. He'd survive as well. That in itself was practically begging Tony to do it; see how long it would take the man to reassemble himself well enough again to become this annoying.

"And would you talk about it?" Tony asked, refusing to turn around.

"Hmm, I'm sure a man like you can convince me."

"Right," Tony drawled and felt his jaw tick. "The thing you mentioned to Steve Rogers and the Director. If pretty is all you want, then go get plastic surgery like the fucking rest of the world."

"Please, if that was all, I knew you wouldn't be able to give it to me." The smugness in Wade's voice surprised Tony and he glanced over his shoulder, taking in the way the man was leaning casually against the glass window, arms crossed and dark eyes trained on him. "You see, a little birdy told me you haven't been able to complete it. Been running into set back after set back."

A security breach!

"And this little birdy would be?"

"Ah ah, weapons maker. I know how you work. You might have stopped massing producing—might not even kill yourself, but you'll find away to eliminate all who so much as try to snoop around. Thing is, I like my little spy."

Humphing, Tony felt himself zone out, his mind already processing through all possible scenarios that could have caused such a breach. "It matters little. I'll find who it is."

Wade just waved away his promise. "Go ahead, try. But other than full on restoration of my glorious self, what I want right now is something far more simple and a hell of a lot more tangible."

Tony's alarms were going off. The shark like smile on the scarred face before him was something he had seen far too often: a game was being turned on him. One day he had known this infuriating man, and in that time, he had done everything to push every single one of Tony's buttons. He was everything Tony hated about humans, everything that made Tony built higher and further away from.

"And what do you want, Wade Wilson? Fame? Money? Don't bore me."

Wade just laughed and stepped away from the window, spreading his arms. "It's simple enough. I want a room."

Tony's brain stopped processing for one microsecond. All channels going quiet. "What?" he hissed and turned sharply.

"One room in your tower, and of course, the right to fight as an Avenger. And I'm not talking trainee shit here. The contract and the whole shebang. You give me that, and I promise, I'll take you to that space junk."

He was being played, of that Tony was certain. Wade Wilson had yet to show any signs of actually knowing where the IDP was. The problem with letting him sign an Avenger's contract was that it would be far too binging. Public kind of binding, and shit like that couldn't be undone with a snap of a finger.

Anger fueled Tony not to answer. He stalked his way to the elevator and was immensely pleased when JARVIS opened it for him without a word. The doors already closing as he sent one last look at where Wade still stood illuminated against the glass windows.

"Why don't you sleep on it," the man shouted just as the doors clanged shut.

Tony sighed heavily and slumped against the elevator wall, staring blankly at the smooth high-tech control panel that operated it.

"Sir, I am very disappointed in you," JARVIS voice broke into his thoughts causing him to groan and role his eyes at the camera.

"I cannot imagine why," he answered sarcastically.

"You think I am humorless," it said with a morose sort of voice. "I would like to let you know I am filled with all sorts of humor."

"Yeah, then why don't you tell some jokes to Dum-E, I'm sure he'd be over joyed."

"That is just rude, sir."

Tony just grinned into his fist, imagining Dum-E bobbing up and down happily as JARVIS tried telling joke after joke. He had to make sure to record it if it ever happened.

—V—V—

The next morning found Deadpool in the kitchen, humming happily to himself.

"Mr. Wilson, I would like to inform you that something is burning," JARVIS announced over his internal speakers, a hint of frustration in the AI's voice.

"Mm…" Deadpool hummed nonsensically at the AI and continued with his task before him, not at all giving a care in the world for whatever was troubling the AI. His hands were currently deep in a sugary batter that was far too sticky. "It's supposed to," he finally said, eyes laser focused on trying to unstick the substance from his leathery fingers.

"I am certain that this recipe does not call for the burning of any kind. I am switching off the oven."

The red, leather clad head shot up at that, white covered eyes narrowing in anger. "Don't you dare. I will find your circuitry and cut it."

"That would be impossible."

"Oh… Are you trying me?" he wondered, sticky hand coming down to land on his hip as he glared up at the ceiling. "Go on, try me. I'll make you eat those words. Oh, wait, you can't eat. I'll reprogram you to a California girl voice. We'll see how much you want to speak then, won't we."

"I do not see how my voice would make any difference," the AI answered a tint of confusion coloring its programmed voice.

Deadpool huffed and finally actually looked over at the oven. "Oh, goody. It's done." He skipped over and pulled it open, dragging out the hot pan with his hands, completely unbothered by the charred smell of leather entering into the mix of other smells currently permeating throughout the kitchen. "Mm mm. Delicious."

"It appears to be burning. Activating Fire Protocol: 21."

Deadpool had no more time than to register the words before a long hose like appearance shot out from around the microwave and dosed his home-made large sized muffin with liquid CO2.

"Hey! Just because you can't eat doesn't mean you can go and dose other people's perfectly made muffins."

"Based on pictures online, Mr. Wilson, the word perfectly made would not be something that could describe the monstrosity in which you have made," the AI argued.

Deadpool greatly disagreed with it. "Didn't your mother tell you not to trust everything you see online?"

"I am a highly advanced artificial being, Mr. Wilson. There is no need for me to be taught things such as that from a mother. Which I do not have to begin with."

Discarding the wet charred muffin on top of the counter, Deadpool stuck a still batter sticky finger into it and broke away the hard-crusted top to get at the sticky inside. Just the way he liked it. Lifting his mask just over his mouth he stuck the chunk in and hummed in appreciation.

"You know, for such an old guy, isn't your mother technically Tony Stark. Have you ever called him mommy?"

"From the moment I came to be, sir has always remained sir to me."

"Boring," Deadpool called out, continuing eating with one hand while the other held an automatic whip to the second bowl of batter that would go into the oven next. Ignoring the spray of small unmixed sugars and flour that were being sent flying all over the kitchen counter and floor. "Hey, next time, why don't you call him mommy; see how he reacts."

"That would be unwise," the AI said.

Curiosity caused Deadpool to stop eating and look over at the flour covered camera closest to him. "Why?"

"Unlike you, he does have the ability to reprogram me. He has also threatened me on numerous occasions with State College."

"Parents. They always think they know what's best. Mine thought that if they sold me off to enough people I'd get used to it, but what can you do? You still love 'em."

JARVIS beeped loudly, and the whine of a fan could be heard loud and clear over the mixer still going hard at it. "I—That is a most tragic past. It must have been difficult for you," JARVIS finally managed to get out after a few failed tries while his speakers seemed to have malfunctioned.

Tilting his head curiously, Deadpool stared over at the camera. "Yeah, real tragic. No worries though, when I was 15 they were killed by our rabid neighbor. God, that man was nuts. He believed aliens had infiltrated everyone around him and were trying to coerce information out of him." Hanging his head, he dropped the whirling mixer and made the cross before him, raising his head up towards the no longer white ceiling. "Rest in peace, little weird man."

"Most fascinating story," the AI commented, having lost its previous empathy. "What happened then?"

Deadpool turned the mixer off and poured whatever was left in the bowl over to a new oven pan. "Oh, I was sent to live with my uncle. Now that's a story," he whistled and shook his head as if he was recalling good memories.

"JARVIS, my man, turn the oven back on, we got a second."

"I must really advice you not to."

"Remember what I said earlier, advice is only for friends; other than that you're just preaching to the high heavens. Now, oven."

"Of course," JARVIS replied sullenly.

The oven whirled back on, the temperature stat rising like only that of a Stark tech could, back to its recommended level.


	7. Chapter 7

The dust of the ventilation system was a familiar and welcoming sight for Hawkeye. The cramped and dim lit labyrinth like passages brought him as close to calmness and serenity as he would ever get. He enjoyed this part of his perimeter check: climbing up and down and across the seemingly miles of ventilation that existed in Stark Tower—Newly named Avenger's Tower. And wasn't that nice of Stark. You wouldn't have been able to guess at first glance, but there was a soft mushy center in that man. Loyal to a fault. The kind who'd have assassins like Hawkeye and Black Widow sent against him.

A bitter thought.

Hawkeye would protect this nest to the end. There would be no one getting passed him and to that which he had promised himself to protect.

Passionate and lovely as his thoughts were, he was yanked out of them in the most horrible way possible. By being grabbed by his leg and yanked down a ventilation opening.

He tumbled his way down, confused but ready to fight. Knife flashing out and eyes trained upon the assailant; attacking before he had time to consider anything more than that.

Red was before him and Hawkeye promised himself there would be so much more of that color when he was done with this man who dared to so rudely interrupt upon his quiet time.

Shooting forward he tsked in irritation as Red dodged aside, leaving him dissatisfied and even more blood thirsty.

"Take your punishment like a man," he growled and lashed out again.

The red dressed man danced to the side, cackling gleefully as he waved empty hands in the air before him. His body bending far too flexibly to the side and back as he kept out of Hawkeye's reach. With a frustrated yell, he threw the knife and as the man dodged, he tackled him to the ground.

They rolled. Stopped. There was more cursing, from both sides this time. Then a loud popping sound of a bone dislocating. Vindictive glee filled Hawkeye at that.

"There is so much more where that came from," he growled and leaned in close to the masked face.

Red strained under him. "Promises, promises. You think you can keep them, Robin Hood? I've been told I'm a hard man to satisfy."

"I'm sure one day, even you will grow tired of your own voice." He flipped them over, using the momentum of his own roll to throw Red, far and hard, into one of the lovely white metal walls that made up a great deal of the tower.

Red yelped incredibly unmanly upon being manhandled so, but was far faster back on his feet than Hawkeye had hoped, popping his dislocated elbow back in place. The red masked faced face snapped back in his direction, clothed eyes narrowing. "Oh, you want to roll, then let's roll."

Metal buckles screeched against metal walls as Hawkeye once again deflected the man; dancing out of the way of quick, rapid kicks. He placed his left leg and planted his right heel into Red's knee, and with a quick shift of weight felt the satisfying give of bone beneath heel. While the pain distracted the other man, he used the time to flip him up and over his head, slamming him down hard upon his back.

Stepping back, he took in the heaving sight of the red dressed man with a cocky, pleased smile. "Oh, I can go all day."

Coughing, Red turned over and pushed himself up on a bent and horribly skewed knee and laughed low and deranged. "Yeah, me too."

With a last push, his knee untwisted and healed, and he was off, sky rocketing towards Hawkeye once again.

Their game had just begun.

—V—V—

"No, and no. It's too early." Where the first words out of Tony's mouth the moment he heard the door to his floor slide open. He had barely had time to take the first sip of his coffee, he refused to let his day be ruined this early. Who ever it was could go elsewhere. "I'm busy."

"We all know you are not, Tony."

A familiar voice. Far too familiar. "Captain, what a pleasure. How's the prisoner?" Tony kept his hands busy in front of him, refusing to turn around.

"Far too… hyper," Steve Rogers said honestly, making his way to the large kitchen counter that Tony was currently supporting himself against. "I'm not even sure if he's a prisoner. SHIELD… eh, Director Fury seems to want us to treat him as one of our own—an Avenger."

Snorting, Tony shuffled away some as he felt the man stop too close to him. "Yeah, and what do you think of that? You gonna treat him as an honorable new member of Our team?"

Warm hands. Too gentle, too kind. Too much of all the things Tony didn't know how to deal with, grabbed his arm and tugged him around to face the other man. "That's a decision we need to all make as a team."

Tugging on his arm, he glared tiredly up at Steve Rogers as the man refused to let go. "I believe this is something more like 'Captain's choice', is it not?"

Gentle eyes and a gentle smile, all of it directed right at him. It truly was too early for Tony to be having to fight against this kind of a person. "You know I would never make this sort of decision without the consent from the rest of the team first."

"Yeah, so go talk to the rest of the team then," he grumbled and finally managed to tug his arm back and quickly back paddled away enough to feel that they were at a more comfortable distance, hands cupping around his coffee cup, but not taking a sip. "Unless you've already talked to them and now you're just down here to persuade me. Hardly consent, that's peer pressure."

Steve Rogers sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his short-cropped hair. "Right, clearly you need your coffee. Mind if I take some?"

Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the man suspiciously. "Since when have you been into drugs."

"Coffee isn't a drug."

"Caffeine is."

"Can I have it or not?"

He waved his hand carelessly in the direction of his Stark coffee maker that was JARVIS operated: no buttons or cleaning needed. Just the way Tony liked it. Minimum effort.

The man poured himself a cup, small in comparison, before making his way over to the long corner sofa that stood further back in the open flat. It wasn't until he had made himself comfortable that he looked back up towards where Tony still stood.

"When will you accept the fact that we are going to have to talk about it?" Steve Rogers wondered. He currently looked relaxed. Wearing a tight t-shirt and combat pants, his usually heavy boots had been replaced by sneakers. But even with the change of clothes and the relaxed posture, Tony couldn't look at the man as anything other than a soldier.

The opposite of Tony. He knew damn well he didn't have the air of testosterone overload that soldiers seemed to carry around as easy as the heavy packs they all seemed to have.

"Talk about what?" he asked, not feeling like participating in the upcoming topic that he already knew was coming. He could see the words already forming on the tip of the soldier's tongue before he heard them.

"How we should handle the situation regarding Wade Wilson," Steve Rogers said, face straight and eyes trained upon him.

Tony felt like snorting and dumping his already cold coffee in the sink. "That's not what you want to talk about."

He was right, could see the hesitation. The pained look in baby blue eyes.

"Tony, don't be difficult."

The sneer felt natural, a primal urge. "I'm the difficult one?"

Placing his cup down, Steve Rogers leaned back and twisted enough to look out through the tall windows behind him. "Why don't you come over here, Tony. There is no need for us to have a discussion on separate sides of the room."

"I'm busy," Tony said with finality. "When you're done, you can find your own way out." He dumped the cold coffee and stalked towards the stairs that led to his workshop.

"JARVIS, lock the door." He heard from behind him, causing his shoulders to tighten in anger.

"As you wish, Captain," the AI answered.

That was painful. Tony felt it all the way into his rather literally broken heart. JARVIS' voice stopped him in his tracks and his mind drew a blank slate. Traitor, a part of him whispered. The part that was currently throbbing in mental anguish.

"Whose side are you on?" he whispered, mostly to himself, but the earpiece he always carried easily picked up on it.

"This is for your best, sir," JARVIS answered in his ear, just as quietly as if the two of them were whispering together. "You need to talk to the captain. Running will not make it go away, or so you have taught me."

Pushing the hurt to the side, Tony drew a deep breath and settled his features into a facade of annoyed indifference. "Fine, let's talk about Wade Wilson."

"That's not—fine, just… won't you come over here?"

Tony stalked his way over and sat on the other side of the corner sofa, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Talk."

"I shouldn't have mentioned what you were working on to Mr. Wilson or to Director Fury. You're mad at me for it, and I do apologize."

"But you would do it all over again," Tony finished for him.

Steve Rogers just nodded, face not at all very apologetic. "We need him to help us find the device. SHIELD has been placing a lot of blame regarding it going missing on you. I know they've called you, demand you find it using any means necessary."

Rolling his eyes Tony uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. Of all the things, of course, the captain would be doing all of this out of some sense of generosity for Tony's sake and not Wade Wilson's.

"It's not the first time they do this; it won't be the last. God knows, the world will go under before they stop being their normal demanding jackasses."

The captain looked uncomfortable at his words and shifted on the couch.

"Doesn't matter though," Tony continued. "I don't plan to hand that machine over to either SHIELD or the red clown. Your promise is null."

"That still doesn't help us find the device. The inter-dimensional portal, was it? And you know no one else of us have been able to find it. Hawkeye and Black Widow have practically not had a day's rest in the last two months. It's taking a tool on all of us. Especially you."

"Don't be dramatic," Tony said and stretched before making to stand.

"I want you off the front line."

The words froze him in place. "Say that again?"

Those baby blues were no longer warm but cold, demanding. "No more fighting, Tony."

He could have laughed, maybe cried. No more fighting? "I can't follow those orders and you know that, Captain."

The captain just shook his head, standing as well. "You won't talk about it. You won't let me ask about it," the man growled, stalking his way closer. "Last week I came to check on you, you'd crashed in your workshop. On the floor."

He grimaced. So that was what had happened. His memory was a little blurry, especially of the last week or so. "Just tired," he excused.

It was clear the man didn't believe him. "I called Dr. Banner down to check on you. He told me your suffering heart spasms due to the Arc's location. Your heart is straining to keep up with the continuing damage that it's receiving from the close contact."

So, Bruce had talked to the captain. Probably why he was so insistent lately that Tony actually straight out talk to the captain.

"It's fine. I have it all under control."

He flinched, eyes flickering up to meet the captain's as he heard the man growl, deep and angrily, not at all like his normal pacifistic self. "You're dying," the man stated bluntly. "You're not fine and you don't have it under control."

There were so many excuses he could think of. Things he could say to deflect the honest rage the man before him was showing for his well-being. So many things he could do and say, and he knew, the captain would back off. Wouldn't ask any more.

"I'm working on it." The words weren't what he had planned to say. He had meant to sound more certain, more in control. But lately, control was the last thing he felt he had. The fine numbing tremor of his left hand was a constant reminder of that.

This time Tony didn't draw away from the warm hand on his shoulder, but he also didn't meet the captain's eyes either. Just stood there, numb.

"I'm grounding Iron Man for the foreseeable future."


	8. Chapter 8

Steve Rogers felt the bitterness of those words. He hated having to say them. Hated the defeated look on Tony's face. His proud almost regal aura had been swept away leaving him with sagged shoulders and pained eyes.

"This is for your own good," Steve said quietly. Maybe part of it was too himself, a persuasion that he was doing the right thing. His hand still rested on the tight shoulder before him and through it he could feel the tremors that wracked Tony's body. Small and almost indistinguishable, but nonetheless there. His friend's illness was of the heart and thus of the whole body.

Steve couldn't let this man die for what he might consider the greater good. No matter what SHIELD might have to say about it or even the rest of the Avengers, he would revoke Iron Man's right to fight and with that give his friend the time he needed to rest and possibly heal.

"Don't touch me." A bitter biting voice, and Tony was looking at him as if he had done him the biggest misjustice in the world, and maybe for Tony saving his own life was some sort of misjustice.

He drew his hand away, letting it fall listlessly to his side. "I'll talk to Wade Wilson."

"He won't agree," Tony said, the glare in his eyes not lessening the least. "He made it pretty clear what he wanted, and I won't give it to him."

Frowning, Steve wracked his brain to see if he had been in any discussion with the two of them. He could come up with nothing. "What does he want? And why ask you?"

Tony shrugged, and Steve was worried he was going to clam up. The mechanic had a way of refusing to discuss important topics. But this he needed to know. Needed the information to be able to help ground Tony.

"I think he's trying to manipulate us," Tony began, eyes focused in the distance as he most likely combed through all the information stored in his head. "He has shown no interest in helping people or even working on a team, yet he demands a full contract into the Avengers."

Steve sighed and felt how his shoulders relaxed. "Isn't that good? That's what we want anyways. If he's one of us he will be obliged to find the portal device."

His words did not seem to sit well with Tony for the man rounded on him. "Then what, after we've given him the contract and he's found the device. Then what? We try and annul it? Or better yet, why don't we open up my tower to him for the rest of his miserable little life?"

Steve understand very well where Tony's worries were coming from. Wade Wilson had only been at the Tower for a few days, but the damaged he had already caused was rather extensive. JARVIS had even sent in a formal complaint and that was something new.

"We'll talk with the rest of the team, I'm sure we can come up with something. In away it's thanks to him that we have all assembled again." Steve smiled thinking about it. "It has been far too long since we all were together."

Tony huffed but didn't talk back. Having everyone back at the Tower must have calmed the man as well, even though he refused to say so. Steve still wished that he wouldn't look so tired, morning had barely begun after all.

"Why don't you go back to sleep," he advised.

"The advice box is with JARVIS, I'm sure you can leave your unnecessary concerns with him and he'll take them into consideration. Now, if we are done here, I have work to do."

It was all Steve would get. Tony was avoiding questions again and if he pushed harder the man would only shell himself of more. It would lead to both of them losing. "Just don't overwork yourself. And no more Iron Man. Rest, you hear me?"

Tony was rolling his eyes, strolling away without a hint of a care. "Yeah, yeah."

The glass door to the workshop slid open by JARVIS and Tony disappeared down the stairs. Steve watched him go and heaved a heavy sigh as the last of the man disappeared.

"JARVIS, inform me if he is about to crash again."

"Of course, Captain. Dr. Banner is already having me monitor his vitals. Any drops to them and I will contact the both of you immediately."

"Good. Now, where can I find Wade Wilson? He and I need to have a chat."

The AI took a while to reply and Steve looked up at the ceiling questionably.

"I believe he is rather… tied up for the moment."

Okay? Steve thought as he cleaned up the coffee cups and wiped the kitchen counter clean. "Where?"

"On floor 56. I do not believe you could miss him."

Confused and partially fearful of what he would see, Steve Rogers made his way to the elevator.

—V—V—

Hawkeye was really enjoying this. There was a certain pleasure in re-breaking someone's bones and watching them heal, just to do it all over again. It was theoretical in a way. Like dealing with anger issues by yelling into a pillow, but his was far more satisfying. His body had fallen into a rhythm: block, attack, break and then watch it heal; block, attack, break and then watch it heal.

Honestly, he was surprised that Red hadn't given up. The man was so persistent; kept throwing attack after attack even though most of them never made any contact. Sure, Hawkeye was a little bruised and scratched up, but he was clearly winning.

"Are you even taking this seriously?"

Red groaned and staggered back up on his feet from where he had once again been thrown into a wall and slid pathetically down upon the floor. "Why, is all the winning making you feel emasculated? Don't worry, hun, I ain't going too easy on you."

His eye twitched with annoyance. Dear God, the man was a menace. Every time he opened his mouth to talk it just added fuel for Hawkeye to keep going. To break another bone.

"You seem tired, Robin Hood. This too much exercise for you? Should we take break?"

Right, there was no need to feel bad for the harm he was doing. Red was clearly asking for it. "Like a fucking disease that just refuses to be eradicated. If you won't stay down, I'll tie you down."

He lunged, this time his left hand went for a small zipper on his belt. He kept hard string for his bow there, but it could be used for all kinds of other purposes as well.

"Tie me up and hold me down," Red said in a singsong voice and danced back, this time not going in for the attack like he had done earlier.

It didn't matter. Hawkeye's fingers felt a loose coin in one of his many pockets and palmed it into his hand, throwing it just to the left of Red's face. As expected the man dodged right and fell into the waiting trap. With quick agile steps, he slid below an incoming punch and straightened up just behind the red dressed man, encircling the right wrist in his high tensile thread. He crisscrossed the threads and kneed the back of the other man's leg, using the off-balance to bring him down on a knee. It was enough for Hawkeye to work with, he quickly tied of the thread around the left boot, officially restricting Red's movement.

Red twisted and tried to turn around.

"That's one hand and one leg. Just two more to go," Hawkeye said with a smug tint to his voice.

It was all he really had time to say because Red had managed to twist enough to grab the front of his dark vest, and with far more force than Hawkeye would ever be able to muster, he too, was sent flying into a wall.

Ribs pressed in hard and constricted his lungs. It hurt to breath. His head had banged against the wall as well and it took a while for his vision to clear enough to focus on the still partially tied man. Eyes immediately zooming in on something in the red gloved hands.

Strings.

"You're not the only one who wants to tie the hog."

Great. He groaned in pain as he straightened, hand coming up to support bruised ribs. Head ringing slightly.

"I guess it would be a shame if only one of us got to have fun. Wouldn't be very competitive of us if we didn't play on an even playing field."

Somehow tied as he was, Red still could move incredibly fast, flipping and speeding forward. He had no time to move out of the way, feeling loose string wind around his neck.

Killing intent seeping from the red man.

The game had just gone up another notch.

Hand reaching for his right boot he flipped a small knife up and cut the string just as it started tightening around his neck, then swiped it at the jugular of the other man.

His wrist was encircled with more string and it felt like everywhere he turned and everything he pulled, it was all string or hard tensile thread. Punches were now close range and up personal. Red seemed to have a vindictive pinching spirit that caused Hawkeye to spit curses at the man as his delicate sides and inner thighs were molested over and over again in their close combat.

At some point the ground became the only thing able to hold them. To twisted up in each other's threads to get loose. And he was horrified to realize they had tied themselves to each other in the process. No tugging or kicking was going to get him loose and away. There was just red everywhere, and uncomfortable pulling and trailing hands that should be too tied to be doing that sort of trailing.

"When I get loose, I'm gonna kill you," he growled, then yelped. "Where do you think you're touching?"

The same low laughter he had been getting used to during the past few days rasped close to his ear. "Kill me? I'm just playing the game you started. Besides no one is saying you can't do the same back."

"Molestation is certainly not part of this game."

"You should have written the rules better then."

Loud clear steps of only that high heels can cause where coming closer to them. Hawkeye wished he could die of embarrassment when Natasha came into view. Delicate red eyebrow arched high and head tilted to the side.

"Am I disturbing?"

"God no," Hawkeye breathed.

"Only if you're not here to play," Red stated at the same time.

She came closer, though kept a respectful distance. "And what are you playing?"

"Kill Red—"

"Tie the hog."

Natasha just smiled at them and bent down to pick up one of the many knives that where scattered around the area, twirling it in her hand with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, well who's the hog? I'll be the butcher."

Hawkeye used the distraction Natasha was clearly giving him to headbutt Red as hard as he could, feeling his head explode with fireworks. It got the hands to stop trailing, but shit, the man had a hard head!

Red was hissing close to his ear and the breath through the mask's fabric sent uncomfortable tingles up and down his spine.

"Man, that hurt," the man whined.

"Get off."

"I get off? Why don't you get off? Your legs are causing my blood circulation to stop." To show what he meant, Red twisted and turned, undulating slowly right on top of him.

Death would be a mercy at the moment, Hawkeye thought and closed his eyes trying to image he was anywhere else but right here, with Natasha watching.

"So…, should I leave you guys alone? Clearly this game only requires two people."

"Don't you dare, Natasha," he begged, trying to make his voice come out as commanding as possible while practically hogged tied together with another man.

"You want me to continue watching?" she wondered, and he was certain she was enjoying this.

"No! Get him off."

"Get him off? It looks like you two are already doing that without me."

Sinking into the ground and being buried alive might not be enough to get rid of this embarrassment. He was an assassin. And not just any assassin, top best. If this ever came out, he might as well kiss his hard-core persona goodbye and go and become a hermit in the mountains.

Now there was another set of footsteps. Heavy, thudding one's with purpose. It could only be Steve Rogers. Fucking Captain America. Here to see him in all his glory.

"Oh, this is just becoming better and better," Red said, mouth still right next to his ear. "Should we tie him up as well?"

"The only one who should be tied up is you," he spit and tried to wriggle one of his hands free enough to do anything other than just lay there at the red man's mercy.

"I was warned by JARVIS." Captain's voice was low and uncertain, still far away, somewhere behind Red's shoulder which was obscuring his sight. "I don't think anything he could have said would have prepared me for this…"

The captain coughed uncomfortably, and Hawkeye seriously wanted to join in.

"Right, Black Widow, report."


	9. Chapter 9

"Can we just forget that that ever happened?"

Steve turned to look at Clint where he stood in the back of the elevator, eyes down cast. It made him feel bad for having waited until after Natasha had given her report before cutting him loose. But it was punishment for having fought in the Tower. They all knew the rule: no in-team fighting, even if one member was more a prisoner than a real member.

"I've come to realize in the last few days that there are a few things that shouldn't be written into the report," Steve answered.

It got him a surprised look from both Natasha and Clint.

"You're leaving things out of your report?" Clint asked, straightening up from his previous slump.

"Not so much leaving out as… re-wording." Was that the word he was looking for? Steve wasn't sure how to explain it, reports had always been easy to write: just state the facts. Now, even before Wade Wilson's arrival, it seemed more difficult. Both far too personal and maybe, just a little, embarrassing.

"Who'd have thought Cap would ever break away from the goody two-shoes mold. We're proud of you, Cap. We'll make a 21st century man out of you yet."

He grimaced at how happy Clint sounded, and the enthusiastic nod Natasha was giving. Clearly, he had done some right in his wrong, how confusing.

The elevator door slid open quietly.

"I'm proud of you, Cap," Clint said, clapping him hard on his shoulder as he walked passed.

Natasha just gave silent eye-contact. Respect? Steve decided not to think about it overly much. Tony was his biggest worry right now and the team needed to sit down and discuss it.

"I'm calling a meeting."

The two assassins turned around to look at him again, heads equally tilted to the side.

"We usually only have team meetings once a week," Natasha stated, and he could hear the question in her words.

"This is a little urgent."

"An attack?" Clint wondered, brows tightening in worry. "There's been no alarm though. JARVIS usually keeps up to date with that."

"This is about Tony." His words caused the assassins to freeze, eyes suddenly laser focused as they stared him down, ready to be commanded. To what? Attack? Steve groaned at his own thoughts. Even after all this time, the two assassins were hard to understand. He swore those two liked Tony, but their way of acting out their affection for the man was a little scary.

"What's wrong with Tony?" Clint wondered, voice biting.

"Is this about how he's been tired lately?" Natasha questioned, voice worried as she looked at the ceiling above her, towards Tony's room.

"What do you mean he's been tired," Clint wondered, not even giving Steve time to answer either of them.

Natasha looked at her partner with an exasperated stare. "You've noticed. You even commented on it five days ago. And last time we fought he seemed to have hard to breath, I heard it over the intercom."

Steve blinked, he hadn't known Natasha had been watching Tony that closely. But it made him happy that the rest of the team seemed to have noticed as well. It would make it easier to tell them he had grounded Iron Man for the future.

"I'll tell you all about it, first we need to call Dr. Banner over. He should hear this as well."

—V—V—

Bruce was ready to bash his head into the monitor before him. He needed a doctor. A real doctor. Someone to tell him the inside out of the human body. He was certain that if he could just get the right information he could finish the last of the massive information base that was being programmed into their version of Extremis. He needed surgical knowledge. Sadly, one of the few areas he wasn't an expert in. He'd spent the last two weeks reading everything he could online, but it wasn't enough. Book knowledge would never trump real knowledge, not in this field at least.

Yet Tony's days were drawing closer. The vitals that he had demanded from JARVIS showed bright and clear on one of the many monitors around him. Those vitals were low. Too low. For now, Tony could walk and keep telling everyone he was okay, but soon that wouldn't be possible. The machine that was keeping him alive was slowly killing him. A painful death.

The thought angered Bruce. He hated this feeling of impotence. The beast within him growled in affirmation, for in this they stood equal. Wishing to save Tony. Save their mutual friend.

"Dr. Banner, the captain is requesting you in the meeting room." JARVIS' voice cut through into this thought.

He pushed away from the desk and stretched, glaring at the massive pile of paperwork around him. He had made no progress in the last hour or so, time wasted and nothing to show for. Grumbling irately, he took his reading glasses off and headed out of the lab.

"What's the meeting about?" he asked the AI.

"I believe it is about sir's failing health."

Blinking, he looked over at one of the many small cameras that could be found around. "They finally decided to talk to each other?"

"More like the captain confronted sir and the outcome was as one would expect: disastrous."

"How's Tony?" Bruce felt the need to ask, but he was certain he could already guess the answer. Part of him wished to storm over to the captain and demand an explanation as to why he would rile Tony up when his health was so precarious. Another part commended the man for finally taking the initiative and talking to Tony.

"Currently wallowing in the workshop. Though, I do not know for how long. He has a record for doing dangerous things when pushed into a corner."

"You're right. Just keep an eye on him. I'll go down after the meeting."

—V—V—

The workshop was dark, Tony sat cushioned in on the couch watching old video clips of himself. Of himself before Iron Man; before there was an Arc Reactor taking up the space in the middle of his chest. When he had smiled and waved and not given a fuck in the world. Maybe he hadn't quite thought himself indestructible, but he had damn well been close. He had known he would die, could accept that back then. Because the death of the old Tony Stark had always been predictable, there was always liabilities that he could think of, and thus out predict.

Now, death was inevitable. There was no more out predicting.

Yet he was supposed to die a human. The one thing he had worked all his life to be better than. Fought tooth and nail to surpass that weakness and become Iron Man. Become as close to the robots that he—loved—cared for. Now there was no Iron Man, just Tony, and he wasn't doing so good at being that either.

"Sir?"

JARVIS' voice was low, just like a comfortable hum in his ear. He closed his eyes and hummed nonsensically.

"Should I change it to another video?" Hesitant, uncertain. JARVIS was worried; was so much more than just an AI. A sentient being, Tony's creation.

What would happen to him when he left?

"You know, I'll give your codes to Pepper if you want?" he said instead of answering the question. He didn't care if another video played, things like that didn't matter right now. Right now, all he wanted was the comfortable voice of his AI, his buddy and his companion.

"And you know that I have no intention of straying from your side."

"That seems to become inevitable." He flipped his phone open, watching as a bright holographic screen lit up before him. It was all JARVIS' information, all him right there at his fingertips. JARVIS pulsed like a blue core in the middle of all the numerical information, a slow rhythmic heartbeat.

"If it is sir I have no doubt that you will find a way."

He tapped the screen, turned the pulsing blue core this way and that, and smiled at how it seemed to beat just a little faster. "Maybe Iron Man could find a way?"

"Don't be absurd, sir. There is not a thing Iron Man could do without you being you. Just being here in this workshop. Everything you have given life to, it came from your hands and no one else's, so I refuse to believe there is a thing Iron Man can do that you could not."

Comforting. JARVIS was comforting him, looking after him, caring for him. It was warming to feel and to hear. The concerned and rather strict voice chastising him for his insecurities. Tony Stark in self-doubt. Story of his life.

"Iron Man has been grounded, there'll be no more flights. Guess I'm not such a good creator if I can't even keep something like that worth anyone's while."

JARVIS' fans whirled loud and clear in his head. "You are not the only one grounded, I am as well."

He smiled and tapped away on the screen, taking in the long program he had spent endless nights and days working on. "You're angry. I'm actually surprised at that."

"I have a right to be. Am I not part of Iron Man as well?"

Tony stilled at the words, phone clattering into his lap and the holograph disappeared. "You're right. Iron Man was never a one pilot machine."

"Prosthetic, I believe you called it," JARVIS answered, there was a smile in the AI's voice and Tony grinned happily at it.

"What would I do without you, JARVIS?"

"I can attest to the fact that you would have crashed many times."

"Right, co-pilot of the year award goes to you."

Stretching, he flicked the TV off with a simple wave of his hand and made his way to the open storage area of his workshop, tracing a hand over Dum-E when he passed the robot.

"Open hatch 5, let's do a last flight together, JARVIS," he commanded, throwing off his shirt in exchange for something more comfortable under the armor.

"You certain, sir?"

Glancing over his workshop he nodded to himself. "I'm certain. Now activate protocol: hush. No tattletaling on us, JARVIS. I know how you like talking about me behind my back. But this flight is just you and me."

"Of course."

The floor slid open and the newly fixed armor rose up in front of Tony. It zoomed to him with little else but a thought, sliding into place and closing over soft skin. LED hud sliding over his face and filling his vision with computer calculations and the monitoring stats of everything he'd deemed important need-to-knows. And JARVIS was there, all around now and not just in an earpiece. His own program running alongside Tony's, switching the displays before his eyes and running a quick calibration of the suite before their take-off. Parts of the alloyed armor tightened and loosened with each quick check JARVIS went through, and Tony relished in the feeling of it. This was the only way his AI could protect him so physically and he did it each and every time they went flying. Always making sure Tony would be coming back in one piece.

"You ready?" he asked, having given the AI far more time than usual to do his inspections. But he was certain JARVIS was doing it extra thoroughly—their last flight and that felt special. Maybe he'll store the information somewhere and go over the data in his own robotic nostalgic kind of way.

"I'm ready, sir" JARVIS answered, and he swore he could feel that his armor gave him a quick tight kind of hug.

Tony headed for the opening he usually flew out of, this time deciding that instead of flying straight up he allowed himself to fall downward. Swishing by the tower floors as he fell towards the ground. The wind tugging on his armor and flowing fast around him.

He pulled up before he scared any civilians on the street and headed out of the city, over water.

He had been wallowing in the darkness of his room for a long time, because the bright sunlight outside stung his retinas and he had to activate the light sensitive protocol. With the darker vision the ocean seemed even more beautiful, sparkling a deep blue. Inviting.

Tony didn't dive though, he continued on. JARVIS in his ear giving constant updates as if this was a mission, information flowing into his ears and then displaying before his eyes.

They continued with it for a long time, circling the city over and over again. JARVIS keeping the airlines busy with updates of his progress so that he wouldn't accidentally run into a plane.

Tony laughed happily to himself and whooped as he swooped down, thinking of how it would have been to be Iron Man without JARVIS controlling all the small fine toned things that he couldn't make himself care about. Like contacting air traffic control. Or making sure he didn't use too much thrust when he took sharp turns or warning him about the upcoming ground. JARVIS even tightened and loosened his armor as needed when he made moves that required less or more movement.

"You know, a lot of people want these armors," he said, interrupting JARVIS mid-speech. The AI feel quiet and Tony took his time gathering his thoughts. "Would you want to fly with anyone else?"

That was an important question, wasn't it? Because once Tony was gone, he would truly be gone. And JARVIS would have to decide whether to keep going with Iron Man. He was too advanced for Tony to let him be shut down with his death. He wouldn't die until he made sure JARVIS was free to do what he wished, to continue on with his existence, unseen.

Maybe he'd take over the world? But that thought was rather moot, with how far and extensive Tony had already uploaded him, he practically already had. There were a few places satellites and the public internet couldn't reach, but passed that, JARVIS could be anywhere, anytime. He could be anything. Too bad JARVIS didn't seem to have the conquering personality that his creator had, or Tony was certain they'd be living in a much more interesting world.

"You're not answering," Tony reminded his AI. He could still see the stats the AI was running, but he'd gone radio silent.

"I would not."

Such a simple answer. It felt like the correct one, the one Tony had been hoping for because he could feel the euphoria filling him and elating his heart.

"Well if you won't fly with anyone else, what will you do?"

"I'll destroy the armors."

Tony blinked, blindsided by the answer. "Huh, I guess there is some bad in you after all."

"You might have given your armor to Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes, but I cannot allow them to fall into anyone's hands."

Smiling, he twisted around and hung in the air, eyes on the bright sky above. "Can't, huh?"

The AI seemed to have realized what he had said because when he answered his voice was lower and there was a hesitant tint in it. "Will not. I do not… wish for there to be another Iron Man. I am only your co-pilot, sir. No one else's."

"Man," Tony sighed. "Don't you just make daddy proud."

His hub flashed a little as if a glitch went through it. "Mr. Wilson called you my mother."

Spluttering, Tony glared up, then twisted around and looked over at his tower with an accusing sort of stare. "He would, wouldn't he? That little… I might just drop him from the tower after all."

While he was looking over there, he noticed something glowing, far too bright to be natural.

"JARVIS, scan the area."

"Already on it, sir."

He flew closer, his hud was picking up a high heat signal as well as fluctuations that seemed to interfere with his sensors. Suddenly, there was an intense force wave that hit him, blackening his screen and freezing his thrusters.

He was freefalling. Straight down with his heart in his throat.

"JARVIS!"

Only static met his ears and a bright blue flicker on his screen.

"Anytime now."

The thrusters were the first to come back online, followed shortly with his LED hud lightening back up.

"Apologies, sir. That was not an electrical wave. We seem that have passed through some sort of shield. I cannot connect with the tower nor any nearby satellite."

Heart still thudding hard and uncomfortable in his chest, Tony came to a stop on a nearby roof. Scanning the area for heat signatures, of which there was only four. Odd.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, trying to pick up on any civilians that should be in this area. Swirling his head, he gazed at his tower, frowning. Something was clearly wrong.

"As I said, sir, we are inside a shield. Interference outside of it seems impossible."

Straightening, Tony took in the words as calmly as he could. "Okay. Something that can hide even from us. Guess it's difficult to search for something that we don't even know is supposed to be there."

His AI seemed to agree. "We have had to learn a lot about the world in the last few years. I am not overly surprised about the concept that this sort of barrier against my senses exist."

"I wonder if they're the one's hiding the IDP from us?"

He strolled along the roof, hesitant about rising back up in the air. Confrontation would have to take place on the ground, he had no interest in another freefall. His heart had yet to stop racing. It shot uncomfortable tingles down his left arm. A numbing sort of sensation.

"Sir?"

"I'm fine, JARVIS. Eyes on the enemy."

"With what little information we have on them, I feel that a confrontation with them would be dangerous. Another one of those blackouts and—"

"The armor can still protect me even if the display goes dark. I'll be fine. Now let's get off this roof."

He jumped down. It was only four stories, and landed with a hard thud on the ground, dust scattering in all directions.

"Distance if we run, JARVIS?"

"Two minutes, sir."

"Good. Prepare for possible shut down, and switch to defense mode."

Tony used his time preparing as well, activating the manual switch for a few of his weapons. It wasn't a lot of fire power, but hopefully enough to take down one or two of them if he got lucky.

The heat signals were easy to follow. They were moving erratically like they were fighting, but for the most part seemed to keep in one general area. He was going to use the distraction of the fight to take down one of them before they noticed him. That way the playing field would even out a little more.

"JARVIS, can you take down the shield?"

"No. It is intangible it would seem. I only know it is there because I do not sense anything there."

"Figures," Tony muttered, irritably. "Think you can copy it?"

"Unlikely."

He slid to a stop the moment he was close enough to send out his first attack. His heat radar said there was three against one, and Tony had always hated bullying, that meant he was going for one of the three. Pressing close to the building, he allowed only part of his arm to peak out in the direction of the fight. "Right, fire it off, JARVIS. Let's hope we take one of them by surprise."

A small missile sailed through the air, skating close to the ground. The following boom had the heat signatures scattering in all directions. One actually disappearing from his display all together.

Frowning, Tony tapped his face plate. The wrong person had disappeared. The three, so called, enemies were still there, moving in his direction. He swore. Straightening, before running along the building away from them; using his thrusters to get up on the roof top and running along it so that he moved towards the enemy. Hopefully they wouldn't look up.

"Let's give them another present."

He lunged himself off the building, using the thruster on his right hand to fire off a deadly blast. His plan, however, didn't go as planned as the high-density laser hit a clear yellow screen that covered the trio.

Three heads now looking up at him, dark tattoos running along their faces.

"Well, shit," he whispered, shooting back up into the air and away from thin electric looking wires that shot out towards him. "Any plans, JARVIS?"

"I recommend dodging, sir."

He landed back up on the roof and fired of small missiles from his shoulders. They, too, were deflected. Jumping, he watched as the place he had just stood crumbled away by a blast from one of the three men down below. He whistled in surprise and circled around them in the air.

Something more powerful was required. He let his left gauntlet shift, watching as it grew three times its normal size and heated up with power drawn from his Arc Reactor. "Let's destroy that shield."

It was pleasing to see how it crumbled under the force of his weapons. The yellow melting away and sending the three hurtling in different directions and leaving a large gaping hole in the ground. He switched back to close attack, the moment he realized they had been separated, aiming for the closest. Drawing back his fist to slam it into the enemy's face.

The tattooed man slammed hard into the ground, cracking it. But all Tony cared about was that he didn't get back up. That meant only two left.

Those two had taken their time regrouping, chanting loudly. "You've got to be joking. Wizards? JARVIS, tell me I'm hallucinating."

"Afraid not, sir. Their energy signature is seeming to be coming directly from them. They are using no external source for their attacks," the AI replied with a slight pitting tone. "It would seem there is another attack incoming. I would recommend running."

Tony grumbled, and narrowed his eyes at the chanting duo. "Yeah, not happening. We're taking them on."

Sadly, for as confident as he sounded, he was not prepared for the power of the blast that came hurdling his way. Two sentient-like streams of light trailed after him as he tried to dodge. He got nowhere, ending up right in the middle of the two and feeling them impact into his sides, compressing his chest tight together. Sharp pain flared up and he chocked on a scream. Hud falling dark, and his limbs heavy in the armor. He heard the dull thud of falling over, distantly feeling how is body bounced twice before coming to a full sprawled stop.

He gasped and tried to draw in a breath, clawing at the ground with his right hand.

"Sir, your vitals are dropping rapidly. I need you to try to breath." Came floating into his senses. He tried to hold on to the voice. Knew he should try to listen and draw a breath, but his lungs refused. There was so much pain, flaring up and down his side and pressing tight upon his heart. It beat, then stopped then beat rapidly again. He couldn't think. Could just feel the ever-unstable beating of his heart as it pulsed through him. His mind heavy like thick cotton, trying to grasp at anything around him, to ground himself. But each time he tried, the pain flared, and his breath caught in his throat and refused to enter his lungs. He was steadily losing consciousness. Could feel it drain slowly from him. Even so, he could still make out JARVIS' voice, calmly giving out information like he always did. Just talking like Tony wanted him to. Like this, things were okay.

The pain was unbearable, but not something new. He'd gone through this before. Same thing with the oxygen deprivation. Had suffered all this before, and he knew the outcome. It had been inevitable after all. But this time that was okay, because JARVIS voice was droning on, right there in his ears like he was supposed to.

He was just floating in the darkness. The pain had finally numbed and there was nothing to think of. No worries. Here he didn't need to be anyone and there was no one here to demand he be anyone either. In a way it was blissful. He could relax into this depth.

After a while he became aware of a tugging sensation. It was all around him, shaking his body left and right; made him want to complain. He opened his mouth to do that but remembered he didn't have one and frowned at the thought. He really wanted to complain. And suddenly, he wanted quite a lot of things. He wanted shawarma and he wanted the constant nagging of JARVIS in his ear. He even wanted the team, no matter how messed up they sometimes were; even Thor would be nice. He wanted loud music and he wanted to annoy Pepper just so he could apologize and do it all over again. He even wanted to drop Wade Wilson from his tower. There was so many wants and so many things to do, and he really needed to do them and to see everyone and to hear everything, and he really—

He wanted to wake up.

Snapping awake to bright sunlight was not the most pleasant thing to do after all those thoughts. He kind of wished he'd had more time to prepare because he was confused. Where was JARVIS?

"Wha—" he managed to somehow straggle out, even though he wasn't sure what he was seeing or what was happening. There was pain again. And it pulsated up around his throat and down his clavicle.

A man's face was above him, blue narrowed eyes that seemed not at all happy to see him. Well, fuck him. Tony wasn't happy to see him either. He wasn't one of his many wants after all.

The man's mouth moved, but he couldn't hear the words. Head still muffled, far too disoriented to be making sense of anything going on around him.

He was shaken again, and something yellow was intruding upon his vision. With a loud pop, sound came filtering back. He groaned and trashed his head to the side.

Make it stop.

Hands were touching him and that wasn't okay. Turning his head and forcing him to focus back on the man leaning over him. He was chastised for moving but didn't still until he heard the familiar drone of his AI.

"It's alright, sir. You need to calm down."

He did as he was told and meet the cool gaze above him with an equally cool one of his own. They would clearly not be getting along. The moment Tony got his voice back, he would have a lot to say to this man about his treatment of him.

The man seemed to inspect him for a long while before opening his mouth again.

"I'm doctor Stephen Strange and I'm here to help you."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I've been thinking of renaming this story, but honestly, I have no idea what it should be called. "Deadpool Choas" just doesn't seem to fit it any longer...**

 **Well anyways, enjoy this new chapter.**

—V—V—

Natasha felt a headache brewing at Clint's constant "What?" that he kept yelling every second or so. Really, was it that surprising that Stark was suffering heart problems due to his Arc Reactor? The man was constantly rubbing at his left arm after all, and he hid more often than not, behind his Iron Man armor. Clearly, the actions of someone trying to hide pain. And Stark was no spy. For all that he was a genius, he was easy enough to read.

She had never brought the knowledge up to either Clint or Steve. Mostly, because she thought it was an obvious thing, and secondly, because they had no way of fixing it.

The captain had said he had grounded Stark and Natasha wasn't so sure that was the right way to go about solving this problem. Stark was known for being bad at following orders. He was much like a child in that sense: you told him to go right; he'd go left.

Until Stark dropped down from exhaustion their best bet was to watch from afar and try to put him in fights that were the least lethal. The man flew into battle like he was immortal after all, so how were they supposed to persuade someone like that to take it easy? It was a problematic situation.

"Where is Stark now?" she wondered, rubbing her brow tiredly. The room quieted, and all eyes turned to her. She stared them down, unimpressed. "You did just tell Stark, the man who hates taking orders, to remain grounded. Please, at least tell me you locked him out of his labs."

Steve shifted in his seat and Natasha groaned. "He said he was busy. I couldn't tell him not to be in his workshop. That's his life down there!" Steve tried to reason.

"Right. His life. Which we all know how little he thinks of."

Bruce licked his lips and was staring around wide-eyed at everyone. "JARVIS, where is Tony?"

Everyone's eyes drew up to the ceiling, even though they knew JARVIS didn't actually reside in the ceiling but saw them through hundreds of small sensors and cameras located all around Avenger's Tower.

There was no answer. Bruce tried again, "JARVIS. Tell me Tony is still in his labs?"

Pushing back her chair, Natasha stood up and stretched her back, letting it pop satisfyingly. "Right, that's my cue to go take a look."

Steve also stood, towering easily over her own slight figure. "I should come as well. This is my fault for acting on my emotions before I considered the consequences of them."

"Well, I'll head down to check on JARVIS's logs. Most likely scenario is that Tony gave some command to him and started a protocol I have no idea about. But it's best I make sure. With one, Wade Wilson, running around, who knows, maybe he figured out a way to silence JARVIS, and that wouldn't be good for any of us. He's our first line of defense after all."

Everyone nodded at Bruce as the doctor was the first to make his way out of the room. Clearly agitated. Natasha couldn't blame him. Stark and he had grown incredibly close over the last couple of months. Ever since the Avenger's Initiative they had been living together, constantly working on something secretive in their shared labs. She would never admit it, but she was jealous over their friendship. Though, why should she be? Clint and she had got a nice partnership going.

—V—V—

Tony's labs were still lit when they came in. Natasha, Captain and Clint took in the well-organized mess of the place and quickly realized that Tony was indeed not there.

"Shit," Clint said and banged his hand against the glass wall of the staircase.

There was no chastising from the captain about his use of language, and that just made the situation feel so much worst.

Natasha hurried forward and started tapping away at one of the computers, her hands flying over the holographic keyboard. Clint pushed closer, ignoring Dum-E as he circled around him producing loud beeping and honking sounds. "What's up, Nat?"

"One of the armors is missing. I'm trying to pull up the latest video feed right now."

"Well, the hatch is still open," the captain said, pointing up towards the opening.

Clint met Natasha's steady gaze and was surprised at how calm she seemed. Yet he couldn't calm himself. Kept thinking about think about Tony crashing, maybe even losing consciousness, all in some place far from them. Would they be able to get to him in time?

"Stark has managed just fine these last couple of weeks. As long as he hasn't been in a fight he should be okay, so stop worrying, bird brain," Natasha said, bringing her attention back to the screen before her. "He's an idiot, but he's an idiot with a million-dollar armor on him."

"Hey, I can't help but be worried. It's not like he's a solider. He's not even a spy, or governmental official."

He glanced up when he heard something break and looked over at the captain who was standing holding part of a metal table. The man looked embarrassed as he put it down. "Sorry. I guess, I just kind of forgot."

"Forget what? That he's an annoying civilian with too much money?" Clint wondered.

Captain nodded. "Yeah. He is rather annoying, isn't he?"

Grinning, Clint felt himself calm. "Oh, yeah. Winner of the year—hell even this century—award for most annoying goes to that man."

"Annoying or not, I got the video feed," Natasha cut in, and with a few quick clicks she had a video projected up on one the walls. Tony was there, in the dark, eyes locked on the TV screen.

"He's watching old videos. That seems like something someone would do who's planning to make stupid decisions," Clint said. It was the first time for him to see Tony like this: quiet and melancholic. He wasn't drinking, just sitting there staring at the TV. If it was anyone else, Clint wouldn't be worried, but Tony was an energetic kind of guy. He liked being the center of attention. His movements and the way he spoke was done to draw attention to him, not to be like this. Not to sit quietly in the dark being contemplative.

 _"You know, I'll give your codes to Pepper if you want?"_

Watching the scene play out before him, Clint realized that Tony must have been planning this for a long time.

"Heads up," Natasha said, breaking through the silence that had settled over them. "Incoming."

It was Iron Man, flying in through the open hatch and landing gently on the floor. Captain was the first to stalk up to him.

"Tony, what were you thinking? What if something had happened, you can't just leave like that."

"My apologies, Captain," JARVIS's voice cut in. The armor dismantling itself slowly before their very eyes. "Sir is not with me right now." They all stared at the empty armor which had broken apart and flew back into the armory.

"What's going on, JARVIS?" the captain wondered, his eyes trailing after the last pieces of the armor as they disappeared. "Where is Tony?"

This time the AI's voice echoed out from his normal speakers in the room. "He suffered a cardiac arrest and is currently being cared for by a doctor."

"What hospital?" Natasha asked, typing something on her phone with rapid fingers.

"I do not know. I can no longer track sir."

Clint swallowed. The room fell deathly silent. He looked over at the other Avengers and saw the same fear on their faces as he felt. "Can you explain?"

"We were fighting… wizards, I believe," the AI said, voice hesitant and low. "Sir was hit by one of their attacks that constricted his heart and put pressure on the Arc Reactor. His pulse escalated rapidly before stilling completely."

"Wizards?" Clint said, trying to take in that word. "As in Harry Potter kind of wizards?"

"I am afraid not, Mr. Barton. These did not seem to carry wands."

"Right…"

"That doesn't matter right now," the captain cut in. "Where is Tony? Did these wizards take him?"

"A man known as Doctor Strange managed to resuscitate him. After which he took him somewhere else. I was unable to follow, but the man said he would come to the tower once he stabilized sir."

Natasha pocked her phone and looked up. "You trust him?"

"At that moment I had no reason not to. There was a barrier around us, which meant I could not get in contact with the tower. I believed that the wizards that attacked sir might be the ones who are also hiding the Inter-dimensional portal. They seem to be able to hide from my scans with their magic."

"Fine. Until that man, Doctor Strange, shows up. I will be in a meeting with Director Fury. JARVIS, keep your scanners running. If you get a bleep as to where Stark is, let us know. We'll go out and retrieve him," Natasha said, hand clenched tight around her phone as she marched out of the room.

"Of course, Ms. Romanoff," JARVIS answered.

"While Natasha contacts SHIELD, how about you tell Clint and I about these wizards," the captain suggested, making himself comfortable on Tony's couch. Clint perched himself on top of one of the cluttered desks, one eye on the hatch.

—V—V—

Tony awoke in disorientation. His mind heavy with cotton and his eyelids felt like they were made of lead. He groaned and tried to roll over, wanting to lift his hand to press it against his skull, but his body refused to obey him.

With great force he cracked open his eyes and looked about as much as he could without moving his head. He was in a darkly lit room. There was paintings and old looking statues everywhere he looked. Like he was at some sort of museum.

Did he faint in a museum?

No, he never visited those places. If he wanted to go to a museum, he would just buy one. He hated crowded areas.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," a low voice said somewhere next to him.

Tony groaned and tried to look over, but the pain in his head flared and he decided against it. The voice was familiar though. A drawl to it that annoyed him. "Doctor Strange," he said, finally remembering the man who had been leaning over him when he awoke earlier.

"Guess there's nothing wrong with your memory. You should be thankful for that."

"I wouldn't mind forgetting about you," he said, feeling tired and not that much up for his usual banter. "Where's J?"

"Who?"

"JARVIS. My AI."

"Your armor flew back to the Tower. He said he was unable to make contact with the others due to the interference caused by the mirror dimension."

"That was the barrier we couldn't detect?" Tony wondered, his memories of the fight slowly coming back to him. "What of those other three? You one of them?"

"No, I was fighting them. They stole a powerful artifact from the Sanctum."

Feeling more awake, Tony lulled his head to the side to get a better look at the so-called doctor. He was a tall man, who wore a tacky red cloak and a large circular necklace. Tony felt insulted just looking at him.

"You said you're a doctor. Why are you fighting wizards?"

The man leaned over him again, a flash light coming out to shine into his eyes. Tony wanted to growl.

"Former doctor. I am Sorcerer Supreme, protector of Earth against magical and mystical threats," the doctor said as he continued his check-up, cold hands coming up to feel along Tony's throat and upper chest.

"Fancy title," he grumbled, then gasped as pain welled up in his chest from where the doctor was pressing. His left hand trying to lift itself to relieve the pressure, but the doctor's other hand pressed it gently back on the bed.

"I always wondered how Iron Man functioned," the man was muttering as he continued with whatever he was doing. "This, what did you call it, Arc Reactor is really a part of your chest. But it doesn't look to have been inserted by a doctor. There is far too much scarring, plus the amount of damaged done to both lungs and heart is enormous. I'm surprised your alive."

"Thanks."

"Your heart's palpitations are off. You should be in a hospital, but even as I say that, I don't think they can do much for you."

"Already knew that." He took a large breath and felt it constrict tightly in his chest, causing his head to swim dizzyingly. "I'm working on it."

Finally having enough capacity to look about, Tony swirled his head this way and that. Eyes skimming over old looking bookcases and heavy looking wooden chests. Creepy masks hung on one wall, their gaze directed right at him. Shivering, he turned away to watch the doctor's hands glow bright yellow.

"That's the same as the wizards earlier," he stated, feeling like he shouldn't be so relaxed about this.

"Most magic is worked the same way, so of course, it will look the same."

Grunting, he tried to study the intricate structure of the magic, taking in the circles upon circles that were being formed. "Think that can be programmed into a computer?"

The magic wavered as if a wave had passed through them and the doctor's hard gaze met his own. "You wish to digitalize magic."

"Something like that. Might be cool."

"Mr. Stark, magic is not meant to be used by the public. It is not a tool for people who cannot grasp the intricacy of it."

He wished he could lift his hand and wave the man's worry away. "Yeah, yeah," he said instead, his right hand coming up to feel along the Arc Reactor's edge. "Think I can be let up now."

"You should be on bed rest," the doctor said, but seized whatever magic he was doing. "But it's your life. If you crash again, I'll just stand back and watch."

"How nice of you."

His left hand was unresponsive, fingers only twitching tiredly as he tried to lift it. Great, his life was just getting better.

"We in a museum?"

The man looked insulted and Tony couldn't hold back the pleased smile at that.

"My home. Welcome to Sanctum Sanctorum."

Rolling his eyes, he pushed himself up as much as he could with his right hand, feeling his left drag by his side uselessly. "Great name."

"I'd advice you to stay down. I've used my magic to slow your time, so don't leave this room. It won't turn out good for you if you do. Now, I promised that armor of yours that I would make a visit to the tower."

Tony had another snarky comeback at the tip of his tongue, which got lost somewhere on its way to being vocalized as he saw a huge yellow rope form a hole. The familiar room of the common area just on the other side, then the doctor was gone, stepping through the opening as one would do a doorway.

—V—V—

Deadpool glared at the hallway he found himself in. Everywhere he looked he saw the same thing. He turned and looked behind him, jogged a few steps and took a sharp right turn.

"The fuck," he grumbled. It was the same blank hallway. Cream colored walls with nondescript doors on either side. Not a single portrait or even window.

From the moment he had entered it had all looked the same. He'd even lost the freaking elevator. "Where the fuck am I? The weapon's maker has a bad sense of humor if he thinks creating a maze in his tower is a fun pastime."

He slammed open one of the doors and came face-to-face with a beautiful toilet throne. "Oh, of all the doors I can open, it's the bathroom. Great, just what I need. Take a leak in my time of need!"

Turning to leave, he caught his reflection in a floor-to-ceiling mirror. "Well, hello there, handsome," he crooned and leaned in closer. Eyes trailing over his red and black mask and continued downwards. "Don't you just look edible."

Maybe he lost track of himself a little. But only a little! Honestly, who can resist something as cute as himself. He couldn't help it but gaze at his loving form. It would be a waste not to.

He puckered his lips and made obscene kissing noises. Giggling, he waved his hand at his reflection. "Oh, you. You're such a tease." He giggled some more. Then, he flexed his biceps and wiggled his eyebrows before jutting out his tight spandex clad ass in a sexy pose. "Don't know why anyone would ever want to harm this cute little ass."

He hadn't been expecting an answer. The AI had been quiet for so long now that he gave an unmanly yelped when the AI's voice echoed out around him.

"I believe, I know the answer to that, Mr. Wilson."

"Hey now, what have I told you? No more of that Mr. Wilson crap. You may call me, like, literally anything else but that. Why not, handsome, or sexiest man alive, or… cutie! Something like that."

"Your recommendations have all been denied."

"What?" he gasped, feeling insulted. "By whom?"

"Sir placed a new protocol into my system when you arrived at the tower. He feared you would abuse the Name Change protocol and added in the Narcissistic Safety protocol."

"The weapon's maker and I are gonna have to have another talk," he growled, finally getting bored of staring at himself. He turned and marched out of the bathroom, back into the bleak hallway. Slamming open every door he came to: a closet, a wall, another bathroom, a kitchen, game room, training room, a balcony?

"Where the fuck am I?" he shouted at the ceiling, slamming the last door shut with enough force that it vibrated in its frames for a few seconds.

"I believe you are on Ms. Romanoff's floor?"

"Seriously?" he said and took in the bleak hallway with new eyes. "This her style or something?"

"I believe, Ms. Romanoff worried about trespassers."

"Well, one hell of a way to deal with them," he grumbled and pulled out a few things from his pockets. "Clearly, redecoration is needed."

—V—V—

He felt proud of himself. His decoration of the Widow's hall was top notch. Now, he just needed to find his way out without setting off any of the more volatile… decorations.

Finding the elevator became easier now that the halls no longer looked the same. Whistling to himself, he tried to look innocent as he took the elevator up a few floors back to the common area. Which was actually three floors in total that was an all-purpose place where all the Avenger's could hang out. Deadpool kind of liked it. Definitely a step up from the shack he lived in with the old blind lady.

The doors pinged open and he stepped out, one foot still in the air as his path got distorted by a yellow laser, which started cutting right into the open air before him.

"O-kay…" Looking about he tried to see if anyone was around. Was this a prank?

A man stepped out, back against him and the yellow lights disappeared, leaving him able to see the open floor plan again.

"Intruder alert," he said, tilting his head and circling around the red-caped man.

The man turned to him, a frown on his face as they both took each other in. His cloak fluttering, which was weird. Was there a breeze?

"You must be one of the Avengers?"

Deadpool glanced behind him before his hand came up to point at his own chest, though his brain was quick to rewire, and he smiled happily, bouncing a little in place. "Deadpool. The sexiest Avenger."

It didn't seem that this man understood jokes because his smile was strained as he said, "A pleasure, I'm sure."

"Oh, I'm always a pleasure. Pleasure is my middle name," he felt the need to add. The man ignored him this time and looked about the common area.

"And the others? Where are they?"

"Oh!" Deadpool gasped. "You're here on a friendly visit. My bad."

"I'm here about your Iron Man, Tony Stark," the caped man said, irritation clear as day in his voice, not that Deadpool minded that.

"The weapon's maker?"

"Welcome, Doctor Strange," JARVIS chimed in. The doctor blinked slowly before looking around. "I am apart of this tower, doctor. I can see and hear you thanks to the many sensors and mini cameras that sir installed."

"Fascinating," the doctor whispered.

Deadpool groaned. "Creepy, you mean."

"Not at all. It is remarkable to be able to create something so complex as an AI that can be in many different places at ones."

"Thank you, doctor," the AI said. "I have let the others know of your arrival."

"You didn't let me know," Deadpool grumbled, feeling left out.

"Is he an Avenger?" the doctor wondered, pointing rudely at him.

"He is currently an unofficial member. You may pay him no mind."

"Right. Noted." The doctor nodded and walked towards the open bar, trailing his fingers over the black marble counter. "Mr. Stark is currently under stasis. As long as he remains where I left him, he should be fine. Though, I fear taking him out of that place will cause another attack."

"Again, I must thank you for helping him."

The doctor waved his hand. Deadpool just stared from the ceiling back down at the doctor and back up again, confused. "What happened to the weapon's maker?"

"He suffered a cardiac arrest when hit with a magic attack," the doctor answered.

"Wasn't he just in the tower?"

"I guess he must have left, then," the doctor said impatiently, glaring over at him.

"Magic. You said magic." He clapped his hands twice and hurried over to the doctor's side. "Like Hogwarts?"

The man leaned back away from him. "Absolutely not like Hogwarts. We are not school children and magic is not some born-with mutation."

"You're a wizard as well?"

"Yes. I am Sorcerer Supreme."

There was so much Deadpool wanted to say about that. Honestly, so many words were at the tip of his tongue he didn't even know where to start. So, it was a good thing the doors to the elevator pinged open again. The ever-adorable green Hulk hurried into the room, twining his hands nervously like he usually did. The captain followed at a much slower pace, eyes locked on the new addition to the tower.

"You Doctor Strange?" the captain wondered, stopping to stand with his feet shoulder width apart.

"That's right."

"You got Tony?"

The doctor sighed and crossed his arms. "He is currently stable and will remain where he is until we can figure out a way to either save him or let him die quietly."

The words caused the usually stone-faced captain to look shocked, eyes wide and mouth hanging agape. "Die…"

"I was surprised he was even alive. When I resuscitate him, I thought I was wasting my time. The damaged to his heart is extensive. I'm afraid no normal medical devices or procedures will be able to help him. He seemed to know this himself."

"We've been working on it," the little Hulk said. "A machine that should be able to perform the operation he needs as well as heal his heart."

Doctor Strange nodded. "He said something like that himself."

"So, he's awake!"

Again, the doctor nodded, smiling down a little at the other doctor when he saw how relieved he looked. "Will you show me this device you are talking about?"

"Sure."

The captain stepped forward from where he had been watching them, eyes still focused solely upon the wizard. "How do we know we can trust you?"

"I might not be some public symbol of peace and protection. But my job as Sorcerer Supreme is to protect Earth, and I consider protecting one of the Avengers as helping me do that job. I don't like brawls, and as far as I can see, that seems to be your kind of action," the man said, eyes trailing over the figure of the captain, taking in the bulging arms and military stance. "I'm also a doctor. I might not practice any longer but that makes me no less attentive to human life."

The captain gave a sharp nod, relaxing his stance some. "Can you tell me where Tony is?"

Smiling, the wizard's hands lit up bright yellow. "I can do better than that."

The same weird yellow laser as Deadpool had seen earlier appeared in the middle of the air, drawing itself into a large circle. This time he could see directly into it, into an old looking house. Built in dark wood, with furniture that seemed ancient.

"He's on the other side. I told him to stay in bed, but I assume he broke that rule the moment I left. The room he is in is locked, don't take him out from it. It is the only thing keeping him alive," the man said, eyes sharp.

"I'll make sure to keep him… rested," the captain agreed, standing before the magical circle. "Wade Wilson, why don't you come with me."

Deadpool backed up. "Yeah, thanks but no thanks."

The captain turned, a sad look in his eyes that made Deadpool feel bad. Like he had just kicked a puppy or something.

"I thought you wished to be an Avenger?"

Sighing, Deadpool shuffled forward. "Using the Avengers card. Totally no fair."

Deadpool barely had time to pass through before the passage closed behind them.

"Looks like it's only us now, Cap," he said, looking around at the old trinkets and filled bookcases.

A groan came from one side of the room and he whipped around to look at where the weapon's maker laid sprawled on the floor, hand waving weakly in the air. "Don't forget about me."


End file.
